Preventing a Repeat in History
by Nellie Bachesneg
Summary: It's two months after the Battle for Earth. The Paladins, after being incapacitated for a while, are getting back into the swing of things. However, with the Galra Empire gone it's a new universe with new threats and new allies. (Was meant be a two-shot, got out of control, Lance&Kinkade-centric, Sniper!Lance, Langst, T for language and themes, idk what genre this is, pls review)
1. Chapter 1

Lance knew that Keith was a training nut.

He and everyone else knew that when Keith got bored, more often than not he could be found on the training deck or flying his lion.

Lance also knew that he hadn't been able to do those things while bedridden in the hospital.

He knew this, and yet somehow he and his fellow paladins were still surprised when Keith called a team meeting less than a day after he left the hospital to tell them that they'd start training again the following morning.

Keith mentioned something about it being the garrison's suggestion, as well as the fact that they would be not just be training but helping with rebuilding, but it was lost amid the groans and complaints of the other paladins. Lance even _begged_ Keith to reconsider, though he would never admit it, but then Keith had reminded them that Haggar was still out there – that their families were still in danger.

That had quieted their objections – for about a month.

"Not that I don't like hanging out with you guys, but can someone explain to me whywe have to train _every single day_?" Lance complained, stepping out of Red after a particularly strenuous morning and stretching out his back.

"Yeah," said Hunk, taking off his helmet and standing next to Lance in the Atlas's hanger. "I mean, the Galra Empire is pretty much gone, we defeated Sendak, and even if Haggar is still out there no one has heard anything about her for years. The universe is safe. Why are we training like it's not?"

"It's safe for now," Keith corrected him as he and the rest of the team joined the two boys. "We need to stay sharp; something could happen at any moment. Also, the garrison higher-ups asked us to stay visible; it reminds everyone that we're here and ready to defend them."

"And even if that weren't true," added Allura, "I wouldn't want my father's work to be locked in a hanger for who knows how long. The Lions are meant to be flown."

"Sure, but like… Every day?" Lance persisted. "We're back on Earth now; there's stuff I wanna do besides hang around the garrison all the time."

"I second that," said Pidge. "We haven't really had any free time since we've gotten back. First we fought Sendak and that mech, and then we were in the hospital, and then we got right back into training; there was no breathing room." Her eyes flicked briefly to Keith at that last part. "It's been _months_. I want a break."

There was a pause as Keith considered it. Pidge, Hunk, and Lance held their breath.

"What exactly," Keith asked slowly, "did you have in mind?"

"We could hit the marketplace in Plaht City tomorrow," Hunk suggested excitedly. "Everyone keeps talking about it; there's food and things from all over the Voltron Coalition!"

"Yeah, I could go for some shopping," agreed Lance. "Maybe I can find some cool alien toy for my niece and nephew!"

"There's a bunch of Olkari tech being sold there," said Pidge. Then her eyes widened in realization. "Oh my God the new communicator is out. Keith, we _have_ to go."

The Black Paladin turned to Allura. "Princess? What do you think?"

Allura hummed thoughfully, then cast a quick, apologetic look up to the Lions. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to get out of the garrison," she finally said. Her face brightened. "I certainly wouldn't mind seeing more of your home."

Lance grinned in triumph. "So how 'bout it, Keith?"

Keith looked at the pleading faces in front of him. Hunk and Pidge had on their best puppy dog eyes, and Allura and Lance both gave him 100 megawatt smiles.

He never stood a chance.

He sighed. "Fine, I guess one day off won't hurt."

* * *

"Pineapples! Get your pineapples here!"

"Olkarian communicators! The newest model is out, people!"

"Exchange your GAC _and_ credits for Earth currency; best rates in the galaxy!"

The shouts of merchants and peddlers rang out as the paladins, changed into casual clothes, walked down the street.

"Wow, I can't believe all of these aliens set up shop in just two months," Hunk commented. "It's… weird. I mean it's not bad – it's actually really awesome – it just feels… it feels like yesterday we were seeing an alien ship for the first time, and now we're trading food and technology and… wow."

"Doesn't feel like yesterday to me," said Pidge, adjusting her glasses. "And after seeing how connected the rest of the universe is, I'm surprised it took aliens this long to make contact."

"Technically they _did_ make contact," remarked Keith. "Though I guess they didn't exactly advertise their presence."

"Keith, your mom's a spy. It was her job to lay low," said Lance with an eye-roll. "But yeah, I've always wondered how that one store in the Space Mall got all that Earth stuff…"

"Well, I for one am glad that Earth has been so open toward the people in the Voltron Alliance, despite being so isolated previously," said Allura. "It is truly heartening seeing so many cultures come together like this."

"Yeah," agreed Pidge, "and I gotta say having the Olkari just a phone call away has been awesome, especially when it comes to rebuilding and repairs."

All of the paladins cast an involuntary glance toward the still-decrepit buildings around them. While the scenery was nowhere _near_ as dystopian as when they had first returned to Earth, the Battle for Earth had left scars that would take more than repairs or rebuilding to completely fade away.

Lance was the first to break the silence that had come over them.

"Hey, are those… action figures? Of _us_?"

Everyone snapped their attention to where Lance was pointing.

"No way," breathed Hunk, making a bee-line for the stall. Pidge was right behind him, looking excited, and Allura trailed after them with a bemused expression. Keith rolled his eyes and made to move on, but Lance pushed him from behind toward the stall.

Keith glared back at his second in command, who avoided the Black Paladin's gaze and started whistling innocently.

That was when Lance saw it.

Just to the left of the stall with the action figures was a strange metal box with what looked like some sort of fan on the top. The fan had just started to spin, and if that was all that happened Lance probably wouldn't have thought anything of it. However, as he looked at it the box also began to glow a dull red and emit a low humming sound.

Confused and curious, Lance looked up at the stall owner to ask about the device, only to find that the alien was also watching the box. Lance caught the flash of panic that crossed the merchant's features before he excused himself – something about getting more stock – and disappeared down a nearby alleyway.

Lance looked back at the box.

The fan was spinning at dangerous speeds, and the humming had risen significantly in pitch. It was also glowing a much brighter shade of red, and Lance later swore he felt heat coming off of it from ten feet away.

An instinct that was frighteningly familiar overtook him.

"Guys, watch out!" he yelled as he ran at his friends and pushed them down the street, away from the stall.

The other paladins made shouts of protest and confusion, but all that Lance could register was the voice in his head that was screaming at him to get away from the box.

Suddenly someone grabbed him by the shoulders – Keith or Allura, probably; in his agitated state Lance wasn't too sure – and tried to speak to him.

"Lance, what-"

They were interrupted by an explosion that shook the stalls and knocked them all to the ground.

Screams rang out. Lance raised his arms to block falling, flaming debris, and out of the corner of his eye he saw his friends doing the same. The sight of them alive and relatively safe was enough to slow his frantically beating heart, but then he lowered his arms and looked around.

Everything was smoke. People were shouting and running around, silhouettes in the gray haze. Lance tried to take a deep breath, but as he did so he starting coughing. He covered his nose and mouth with his jacket sleeve and stood up. A moment later Keith, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura joined him.

"What… happened?" asked Hunk.

"Maybe a gas line exploded?" suggested Pidge.

"No," said Lance, glancing at Keith. The Black Paladin was peering into the haze with a dark expression, and Lance knew he had already guessed the cause of the explosion. "It was a bomb."

"A _bomb_?" exclaimed Allura in disbelief. "But who would… All these people…" She pressed her lips into a grim line of determination. "We have to help them."

"Right," said Keith. "We can ask questions later." He glanced Lance. "Thanks for pushing us out of the way."

Lance smiled. "Anytime." He then stepped into the smoke. "Let's go."

* * *

A long while later the paladins found themselves back in the Atlas. They had discovered a room similar to the lounge in the Castle of Lions, and so had more or less claimed it as such at some point during the two months they had been back in action. They were all flopped on couches that were arranged in a circle, exhausted and still in their smoky, dirty clothes. No one spoke; they were too tired. It had taken forever and a day to first clear the marketplace and contact the understaffed police in the area and the garrison – the latter of which had then swooped in and taken over while asking the paladins countless questions about what had happened. _Then_ , after that had all been taken care of, someone had mentioned paperwork.

The paladins had bolted.

"Rough day?"

The paladins looked up to see Kinkade standing in the doorway.

"What are you doing here?" asked Keith in surprise.

"Heard about what happened at the market. Iverson sent me to tell you there's a debriefing in thirty minutes. Room 207."

A collective sigh went up.

"Guess we better get going then," said Lance, his tone weary. "Why does this place have to be so frickin' _huge_?"

* * *

"Thank you for coming," said Iverson, putting down a tablet as the paladins and Kinkade entered the meeting room. "Please take a seat."

The paladins needed no further invitation and collapsed into the chairs on one side of the table. Kinkade calmly sat down on the other side.

"I'll make this brief," said Iverson, standing with his hands behind his back.

"Thank God," muttered Pidge quietly.

"As you know, the explosion today was caused by a bomb," Iverson continued, ignoring her. "This bomb was determined to be alien in origin, but we are unsure exactly who made it or why they seemed to target you specifically. However, our most pressing question is how they knew where you would be today."

He paused expectantly.

"Well, it's not like we kept it a secret," said Hunk after a second. "My parents even called ahead to a few stall owners to let them know I was coming. Discounts, y'know?"

Iverson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought as much," he said, then picked up his tablet. He took a moment to type and send a message before turning his attention back to those at the table.

"We can't have this happen again," he said. "I would _strongly encourage_ you all to let your superiors and _no one else_ know about future outings. This is just for your safety." He paused, then added, "The garrison has given you a good deal of freedom since the Battle. However, you should know that after today there's been talk of placing you under house arrest."

All of the paladins suddenly became wide awake.

" _WHAT!?_ "

"I've convinced them otherwise for now, but let this show you how serious this issue is." Iverson said. He regarded them all seriously. "Your lives are in danger."

He stared down the paladins with his one eye until they had once again settled in their seats, albeit tensely. He spared a brief glance toward Kinkade as well, who was watching it all happen with a stoic expression.

"Now," he eventually continued, "the other thing you need to know is that the garrison is releasing an official statement on the explosion." He looked at the paladins for a moment, then sighed and seemed to brace himself. "We're calling it a gas leak. We're not telling the public about the bomb."

There were a few seconds of silence, then…

"Are you _kidding me_?" Pidge exclaimed, looking at Iverson with incredulity.

"I fail to see the wisdom in that," Allura bit out.

"Why not?" asked Keith sharply.

"Right now, it would just cause suspicion and panic," Iverson replied firmly. "Now, I know that sounds a lot like what Admiral Sanda would say, but hear me out. If word gets out that there was an unidentified bomber targeting the Paladins of Voltron, we would get more calls than we would know what to do with from people saying the bomber is their shifty-eyed next-door neighbor. It would hinder our investigation more than anything else."

"But-" Keith started.

Iverson slammed his hands on the table and glared at the paladins.

"This is not like the war against the Galra and Sendak!" he roared. Everyone else flinched back at the sudden outburst. "This is terrorism! And the _last_ thing we want is a war on terror; we are simply not prepared for it! So I _suggest_ that you sit down and shut up while your superiors handle this! We are trying to protect you!"

Silence.

Kinkade's eyebrows had almost disappeared into his hairline. Keith, Allura, and Pidge looked just about ready to murder something. Lance was looking down at the table with his jaw and fists clenched.

Hunk, however, wore a solemn expression.

"Guys," he said softly after a moment, "I don't want another war."

He looked up to find the entire table looking at him. He swallowed and focused on his teammates.

"I mean, I know you guys don't like the secrets, and neither do I," he said, "and I'm definitely not saying that this should be our M.O., but… maybe we _should_ let someone else handle our problems. Just this once. To avoid further bloodshed."

Keith opened his mouth to say something, but Pidge beat him to it.

"But it's _not_ just our problem!" she cried. "Don't the people deserve to know if they're in danger?"

"Yes, think of how many people were affected by the blast today!" chimed in Allura. "They should know the truth!"

"At least let us help with the investigation," Keith demanded of Iverson. "We've run Intel missions like this before, we can ask around-"

"No."

Everyone looked at Lance. He had his eyes on Iverson.

"The problem right now isn't what we or the people know," he said. "It's _us_."

"What do you mean?" asked Hunk. Lance looked at him.

"The bomber was targeting _us_ ," the Red Paladin said, "which means that _we_ were the ones who put those people in danger."

"Lance," Allura said gently, "no one asked the bomber to target us."

"And maybe if the people had known that they were targeting us –"

"Then what, Pidge? They would have closed up shop, completely stopped their business just to avoid us?" Lance challenged. "That's not fair to them. We can't go anywhere, we can't do anything – heck, we're putting our families in danger _again_ , just by existing – until the bomber is found and taken out."

"Which is why we should help with the investigation," Keith said pointedly.

Everyone looked to Iverson.

He sighed.

"I wish I had that authority, but unfortunately my own superiors, they –"

"They don't trust you," said Kinkade suddenly, speaking for the first time. He flicked his eyes up from the table to the paladins. "You jeopardized yourselves today because you gave away valuable information about your whereabouts. The higher-ups don't trust that you won't do that with the information within this investigation." He glanced at Iverson. "Am I right, sir?"

"…Yes," Iverson admitted with an air or regret. The paladins looked at him in disbelief. He sighed again. "And, unfortunately, that's all I've been permitted to tell you."

He closed his eye for a moment, then snapped it open, expression suddenly stern.

"You're all dismissed," he barked, "except for Lance and Kinkade."

The latter blinked.

The other started in surprise. "What? Why?"

Iverson didn't say anything.

There was a still, awkward pause.

" _Quiznack_ ," Keith hissed before shoving his chair back and stalking out of the room. The rest of the paladins looked at each other, then moved to more or less do the same. Kinkade and Lance stayed seated.

The door to the meeting room shut with a resounding hiss of pressurized air, and Lance couldn't help but feel that he was being sealed in.

* * *

"What the quiznack is going on?" Lance asked as soon as the door was closed. "Why did you send everyone else out?"

"The garrison wants as few people involved in this as possible," said Iverson. "I don't like it either, but I can't do anything about it without losing my job."

"Sir, if I may," interjected Kinkade, "why am _I_ here? I don't understand why I was asked to be present for the debriefing either."

"Yeah, why _is_ he here?" parroted Lance. "He had nothing to do with what happened."

Iverson picked up his tablet. "I assure you, all of this will make sense in a minute," he said.

He tapped the device in his hand and by doing so activated the large screen behind him. Pictures of a furry, blue alien walking in the marketplace appeared.

"During the debriefing I told you that the garrison had no information on the bomber," said Iverson. "That was a lie."

" _What!?_ " exclaimed Lance, rising half-way out of his seat. Kinkade simply crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, waiting for Iverson to explain.

"These photos were taken by our drones less than twenty-four hours before the bomb went off," the general continued, selecting one of the pictures so that it filled the screen. The alien seemed to be messing with some sort of mechanical apparatus in an alleyway. His face was turned toward the camera.

"The device in this picture is what we can only assume to be the bomb, as its location in the picture was the center of the blast today."

Iverson tapped his screen and zoomed in on the alien's face.

"After questioning the locals, we were able to identify this individual. His name is Itzel, and he is part of an alien terrorist organization that we have been keeping an eye on for several weeks now."

" _WHAT!?_ " Shouted Lance, standing up to his full height with a livid expression. "Why are we only hearing about this now!? Why didn't you tell the others!?"

"I still don't see what I have to do with this, sir," added Kinkade, his stoic demeanor broken by a frown.

"Right," said Iverson, putting down his tablet and turning toward Lance. "To answer your question, I'm afraid it's just like Kinkade described. My superiors no longer trust your team with sensitive information, and this right here is as sensitive as is gets." He pointed to the screen to emphasize his point. "To defeat these terrorists, we need to know everything about them, while they think that we know nothing. That means that we can't risk _anything_ of what we know slipping out to the public. And to my superiors, that also means that this meeting is completely confidential. Nothing gets out. You can't tell anyone what you hear in this room, including – and especially – the rest of the paladins. "

Lance worked his jaw, too angry to formulate words. Kinkade spoke in his stead.

"But sir, why are _we_ being told this?" he asked, a note of frustration edging his voice.

The general paused, then bowed his head slightly.

"Boys, there's no easy way to put this so I'll be blunt." He raised his head and looked at each of them in turn.

"The garrison wants you two to take out this terrorist group before it becomes any more of a threat."

Lance and Kinkade glanced at each other in surprise. There were several ticks of silence.

"…How are we supposed to do that?" asked Lance eventually, his tone less angry and more curious.

"By cutting off the head – or, heads, in this case," replied Iverson, sounding resigned. He tapped his tablet and pictures of two different aliens filled the screen. "These are the two most powerful people in the terrorist group," he said. "The one on the left is Yeliab. Our Intel indicates that he's in charge of resources. Take him out and these people lose the majority of their money and supplies."

Kinkade simply nodded, but Lance studied the alien. He seemed to be of the same species of Nyma, though the head… ear… things were shorter, and he had several purple spots decorating his green face like freckles.

"The one on the right is Nitsua," Iverson continued. "She's in charge of operations and a brilliant tactician. Get rid of her and the organization won't be half as organized." Lance noted with surprise that Nitsua was one of the Olkari.

"Why would an Olkari try to bomb Voltron?" he wondered aloud, sitting down again as he did so.

"That's the only thing we haven't been able to find out," Iverson replied. "But it hardly matters. These people have proven to be a threat to those on Earth, and so they need to be taken out."

"But why us? Surely there are people better qualified," pointed out Kinkade.

"Actually, there aren't," Iverson corrected him gravely. "The fact of the matter is that we lost a lot of people in the Battle for Earth, and while we have made many alien allies they have yet to be integrated into our ranks. That means that we have limited options when it comes to missions that require specialized skills."

Lance quirked an eyebrow.

"In other words," Kinkade spoke up, "we're the only snipers in the garrison with the experience needed to carry out an operation like this."

"Yes."

There was a heartbeat of silence.

"So, you want us to assassinate the leaders of a terrorist organization because we're the only ones who can?" Lance asked.

"I just said that," said Kinkade.

"No I know," said Lance, glancing at him, "I'm just hoping that the more I hear the idea, the less insane it'll sound."

"Trust me, we wouldn't be asking if we weren't desperate," interjected Iverson, drawing back the boys' attention. "As they proved today, this group is becoming more and more dangerous. We need to stop them. Now."

The boys looked at each other, then back at Iverson.

"Do we have a choice?" Lance asked.

Iverson picked up his tablet with a sad expression.

"No," he said as he began to pull up the mission details.

* * *

A couple of hours later, Lance dragged his feet into the paladin lounge. It was late, and that combined with the rough day had Lance practically dead on his feet. He knew that he probably should have gone straight to bed, but he had left his bag with his purchases – a doll for his niece and a toy hovercraft for his nephew – from the market in the lounge. Maybe tomorrow, before he left, he could ask Veronica to deliver them.

Lance sighed, remembering the apologetic look in Iverson's eye as he told them that they would have to leave the garrison at around 0900 hours to reach their targets' location. Kinkade had simply accepted the information and moved on, as he seemed wont to do, but Lance was still taken aback by how quickly things were moving. It wasn't that he couldn't keep up mentally – no, missions like this were his strong suit; if anything Lance was in his element – but he couldn't shake the feeling that something about this whole mess was… off.

However, he was too tired to dwell on the issue. Besides, as far he could tell most of what Iverson had said had made sense – even if he wasn't happy about some of it. He figured that if something was really wrong, he would remember it in the morning after a good night's rest. He yawned as he stepped into the circle of couches.

He stopped short.

The rest of the paladins were there, sprawled on the furniture in varying positions – all still in their day clothes and sound asleep.

Hunk was snoring lightly, lying flat on his back. Allura was curled up at the end of the same couch near his feet. Keith looked like he had dozed off while sitting up, and Pidge was laid out at his side with her computer still open on her lap.

Lance smiled, a warm feeling rising in his chest.

As silently as he could, he made his way to the only open couch left. He didn't even bother to take off his shoes as he laid himself on the cushions. He yawned again, then took out his phone and set ten different alarms for the next morning.

He would need extra time to make his way through the Atlas and get ready before the mission.

* * *

Keith woke up first.

The Black Paladin, being the light sleeper that he was, had been jolted from his peaceful slumber the second Lance's first alarm had gone off. Immediately he had begun looking around for the cause of the insistent beeping, thinking that it was an actual alarm, and had been confused when he realized the sound was coming from Lance.

It was only then that reality came into focus.

Keith sighed as the events of the previous day came back to him. He figured that Lance had come back from his meeting after they had all fallen asleep waiting for him, though why he had set such an early alarm Keith didn't know.

He went over to Lance's couch and saw his phone right next to his ear, blaring away to no effect. Keith shook his head incredulously and turned the alarm off; maybe he and everyone else could sleep in a little more before training. It had been a rough day yesterday, after all.

Keith sat back down and settled into a comfortable sleeping position. He began to drift off after a couple of minutes, but was interrupted by Lance's phone going off _again_.

Keith growled softly and once again went to turn it off, but when he sat back down he felt Pidge shift next to him. He waited until she stilled before leaning back…

And the alarm went off a third time.

Keith grit his teeth. Pidge groaned softly, and when he looked over he saw Hunk and Allura beginning to stir as well.

As he went to Lance's phone, Keith prayed that he had only set three alarms. It seemed a reasonable amount, given how heavy a sleeper Lance was. Any more would just be excessive.

Right?

…

Apparently wrong.

This time Keith couldn't stop a quiet, "Are you serious?" from escaping his lips. He jabbed his finger at Lance's phone, then turned around to see Pidge finally awake and squinting at him.

"Wha's goin' on?" she slurred.

"Lance's alarm has gone off _four times_ ," Keith whispered angrily. "It's pissing me off and waking everybody up."

Pidge yawned and reached up to her face, checking to see if she was still wearing her glasses. She was.

"Right, give it here," she said sleepily, sitting up and putting her laptop on the floor.

Keith handed her the phone.

"Hmm, password protected," she said after a second. "I could try to go around it, but Lance would probably be up by the time I did. Alternatively, we could try to guess it."

At that moment Lance's fifth alarm went off, making Pidge jump. She quickly tapped the red X that appeared on the lock screen.

"Quiznack that's loud."

"Ugh, can't we have fifteen more minutes?" came a voice suddenly from the other side of the room. Keith and Pidge turned to see Hunk sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Keith sighed. "Sorry buddy, it's Lance's alarms. We're trying to turn them off."

"Why not ask him to do it?" suggested the Yellow Paladin, yawning.

Keith considered it. "If Allura wakes up –"

"Mmm… What time is it?" the princess in question interrupted, lifting her head from the arm of her and Hunk's couch. "Are we training today?"

All eyes turned to Keith. "Yes," he said, "but first –"

Lance's sixth alarm began beeping. Keith's hands clenched into fists.

"Ok, that's it." He stomped over to the Red Paladin. "Lance!" he shouted. The boy's face twitched, but beyond that there was no reaction. "Lance, come on! Stop pissing me off!"

Pidge snickered and Keith shot her a glare. Lance still slept on.

Hunk then got up and walked over to him "Hey, buddy," he said gently, rocking the boy's shoulder. "Come on, it's time to get up."

This time Lance did shift, but only to roll over – turning away from his friends.

"This could take a while," Hunk warned.

Lance's seventh alarm then sounded.

The other paladins tried to wake him up, with varying degrees of success. By the time Lance's ninth alarm went off, he had opened his eyes twice – only to close them and immediately fall asleep again.

"Is something wrong with him?" asked Allura, her voice tinged with concerned. "He's not usually like this."

"No," agreed Hunk, "but it was a long day yesterday, especially for him. That combined with the exhaustion from training these past few weeks… I think it just all caught up to him."

The tenth and final alarm beeped. Keith sighed in resignation. "Well, at this point –"

"Out of the way, I've got this!" Pidge suddenly yelled from the doorway. The others looked up in surprise; no one had even seen her leave, yet there she was – holding a large glass of ice water.

Everyone stepped back.

Pidge walked up to Lance. "I used to wake Matt up like this," she said with a grin. Then she dumped the entire twenty-two ounces of frigid H2O on the Red Paladin's head.

Lance leaped off the couch with a shriek, narrowly missing Pidge with his arm.

"WHAT THE _HELL_!?" he shouted after he regained his bearings, scowling at each of them.

"You wouldn't wake up," said Keith, crossing his arms and glaring at him. "Even after _ten_ alarms, _and_ all of us trying to –"

"Wait, ten alarms?" Lance interrupted, anger draining from his face and eyes widening. "What time is it?"

Surprised at his sudden shift in reaction, the paladins didn't answer. Lance snatched up his phone.

"Quiznack," he breathed. "Ok, well I'm not late yet."

"Um… late for what?" asked Hunk as Lance started looking around him.

"Where's my bag?" he asked instead of answering Hunk.

"You mean this one?" said Allura, picking it up from the floor and holding it out to him. "Lance, what are you late for?"

Lance grabbed his things and made for the door. "I have a mission with Kinkade at 0900."

"What?" said Keith in surprise. "Is that what your meeting was about last night?"

"Yup."

Lance suddenly stopped in the doorway as he remembered what he had learned the night before, and realized that this could be his only chance to tell the others the truth. He turned to his friends, opened his mouth… and spotted the security camera in the corner of the room. Iverson's warnings came back to him. If the garrison higher-ups caught him spilling top-secret information, Paladins of Voltron or not there would be consequences for him _and_ his friends. He closed his mouth and swallowed.

"I promise I'll explain everything when I get back," he said, looking each of his friends in the eyes. Then he smirked. "Don't do anything crazy while I'm gone."

And with that, he left.

* * *

 **So yeah, this was supposed to be a two-shot but when I got to ~12000 words and I still wasn't done I realized that was wishful thinking. Oh well!**

 **Please review with constructive criticism; it keeps me motivated to finish fics that aren't one-shots.**

 **Thanks to HopefulHelpful for beta'ing!**

 **EDIT: I changed the beginning to more clearly be from Lance's perspective and to spice up the dialogue a bit. Nothing concerning the plot has been altered.**


	2. Chapter 2

Lance groaned for what must have been the fifth time in fifteen minutes.

"Seriously Kinkade, I know this is a serious mission and all, but can't you loosen up just a little so we can have a conversation?"

"No."

"Come on, you've given me nothing but one-word answers for the past hour!"

"Tough."

"Ugh, what's your problem? I'm just trying to be friendly!"

Kinkade cast a sidelong glance at Lance but didn't say anything.

Lance scowled. "Fine, don't talk if that's what you want. But I refuse to sit in this car for another three hours just staring out the window!" He began rummaging through the personal backpack he had packed in a rush that morning. "Come on, I have to have _something_ in here…"

Kinkade rolled his eyes as he retrieved his touchscreen from his own bag and pulled up the mission details, reviewing them not for the first time.

Lance had been trying to make conversation since 0900 that morning, when they'd loaded themselves and their mission gear into what appeared to be a civilian car of popular model. The sleek, silver vehicle seemed innocuous enough, but hid a veritable arsenal under its hood.

Lance had dubbed it the "spy-car".

Iverson had reluctantly agreed with his definition and said that the idea was to remain inconspicuous but not defenseless. He also said, much to the Red Paladin's dissapointment, that no one except their designated driver was to be in the front seat.

It had not taken Lance long after they'd embarked on their journey to find out that he would get no entertainment from the car through said driver, who he had already forgotten the name of. Unfortunately for the other sniper, that meant that he had turned to Kinkade to fulfill that need. At first Lance had asked questions about the mission, presenting hypothetical but admittedly plausible situations they might find themselves in. Kinkade had made the mistake of giving thought-out answers, which had encouraged Lance to keep asking question after question until they had somehow arrived at the topic of sloths.

Yes, sloths.

Kinkade wasn't exactly sure how _that_ had happened, but it was then that he had decided to cut his responses down to one word or less.

He sighed, quietly so Lance didn't hear him, remembering the crestfallen look on the boy's face.

It wasn't that he didn't like Lance. Sure, the guy had his faults, but there were worse people to be stuck in a car with. That said, Lance and Kinkade's personalities didn't exactly mesh well. Lance was energetic and outgoing; Kinkade was quiet and reserved. Lance acted mostly on instinct and could switch on a dime; Kinkade was patient and liked to think things through before taking action.

Still, they had made a good team in their one mission together during the Battle for Earth. Kinkade knew that Lance was skilled sniper if nothing else. He held on to that knowledge throughout the car ride; it helped him endure the endless questions.

"Hey, look what I found!" Lance suddenly called out, breaking Kinkade out of his thoughts. He glanced over to see Lance grinning and holding a deck of cards held together with a rubber band.

Kinkade quirked an eyebrow.

He wasn't opposed to card games; he actually found that they helped pass the time rather well, though which game he played depended on the type of person he was with. For example, he would flat out _refuse_ to play ERS with someone like Lance – for the sake of his fingers _and_ his dignity. If the game was something like Hearts, though, or maybe Spades…

"…What game?" he asked, putting away his touchscreen.

Lance grinned wider and began shuffling the cards.

"How do you feel about Gin Rummy?"

* * *

Gin Rummy didn't really require too much strategy or focus, but it kept Lance and Kinkade occupied for the majority of the journey. At some point the driver had passed back their midday rations, and Lance had joked that the garrison higher-ups were like his mom – even though they occasionally grounded him and would make him do chores, they still packed his lunch.

The corners of Kinkades mouth had twitched upward at that, though mercifully Lance hadn't noticed.

Throughout their gameplay, Lance had once again tried to talk to Kinkade. However, since the boys were distracted by their cards, the conversation was far different that the one they'd had earlier. Lance didn't ask as many questions or make comments as frequently, as half of his attention was on playing his hand. Kinkade, for his part, replied to Lance more openly and honestly because he was more focused on playing than being closed off. Their exchange was kept pleasantly casual, and Kinkade felt his shoulder gradually loosen up. He hadn't even realized they'd been tense.

"We'll be there in under an hour," the driver suddenly called back.

The boys' eyes met.

They had just tied their number of wins.

No words were needed for them to decide that the game wasn't over.

"Tiebreaker on the way back?" suggested Kinkade quickly, before Lance could propose otherwise; they needed to review the mission together one more time. The Red Paladin smirked and started putting the cards away.

"You're on."

* * *

Both Lance and Kinkade grew quiet as they approached the town wherein their destination lie, the vast, desolate sea of desert sand giving way to civilization once more.

Although, the civilization in question was nothing much to look at either; almost all of the houses and shops that they passed were empty with tumbleweeds on the lawn and crumbling walls. Despite the gradual return of citizens to their homes after the Battle for Earth, many of the buildings in this desert town had been neglected over the past two months. This was largely due to the town's relative isolation; it was almost 150 klicks (about two hours by car) away from any other settlement, and that was back when road conditions were decent. During the Battle the streets had been reduced to little more than dirt tracks, and they were not particularly safe to drive on. Consequently, it took five hours to get from the garrison to the small village.

Of course, cars were not the only form of transportation on Earth. Many of the people in the isolated city owned hover vehicles, as they did not depend so heavily on the terrain. But hover vehicles could not carry all of the equipment that the snipers needed, and they stood out in the other areas the car passed through during the trip.

Lance made a mental note to thank Pidge and Sam for teaching the garrison techies how to integrate cloaking into their vehicles.

Unfortunately, the car could not remain invisible indefinitely – Balmeran crystals had yet to replace engines and batteries for the time being. Therefore, the driver parked their transportation in a secluded alleyway a few streets down from the terrorists' headquarters. He, Lance, and Kinkade then used the debris around them to hide the car from view.

After the task was done, the three of them stood outside in the concealed alleyway for a minute, basking in the heat of the mid-afternoon sun. It felt good after the air-conditioned car, as did stretching out their cramped muscles – even if it was only for a short moment.

"We should get started." Kinkade spoke first.

Lance sighed, touching his toes one more time to get the last of the kinks out. It felt good, and as the paladin straightened, he sensed a grin forming on his lips. He was ready. "Right, let's go get these quiznackers," he said eagerly.

Both Kinkade and the driver blinked at Lance. Then the driver shrugged and opened the trunk with a button on his keychain.

"You're both clear on the exfiltration plan, correct?" The driver asked as the snipers donned their body armor and checked their equipment. "As soon as the targets are neutralized, get back here as soon as you can. Leave no trace. We-"

"We were never here. Yeah, Iverson told us like, a thousand times," Lance interrupted, shouldering a duffle bag. "It's all a big secret, we get it."

The driver pursed his lips. "Just try not to be spotted. Or heard," he advised.

The Red Paladin rolled his eyes at the obvious jab as Kinkade lifted his own duffle out of the trunk. Both boys then put on loose-fitting, hooded ponchos to cover their luggage and body armor.

"We've got the mission under control," the black pilot told the driver evenly. "We'll rendezvous with you after the mission is completed."

The driver nodded sharply and proceeded to retrieve a messenger bag from the trunk as well as his own poncho. Once equipped he faced the boys, hesitated, then crisply saluted them before turning on his heel and disappearing around the corner.

Lance and Kinkade glanced at each other and then back towards the street where the driver had gone. Lance raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Okay then," the he said after a second. He looked at Kinkade with another grin. "Ready?"

"Keep your comms on, but don't use them unless you have to," the other boy replied, not sharing Lance's playful mood. "And remember to hold your position until the targets are down."

"Roger that," the Red Paladin chirped, undeterred by Kinkade's stubbornly professional attitude.

The pilot sighed. "Are you going to be this… cheerful for the whole mission?"

"Depends if I keep thinking about all that C4," Lance said, still smiling as he looked in the direction the driver went. "I gotta give the garrison props on this one; blowing up the building is the _perfect_ payback for what those guys did at the market."

* * *

Lance resisted the urge to yawn and tapped his foot impatiently against the rooftop, staring through a pair of binoculars at the double doors that marked the entrance to the terrorists' hideout. His rifle was set up next to him, though it was not his bayard; the garrison had not wanted to run the risk of someone spotting it and placing Votron at the scene of the crime or… something. Lance had zoned out during that part of the briefing.

Lance suppressed a sigh. That meeting had been thrilling compared to sitting on a rooftop all day. The only excitement occurred when someone happened to walk by on the street below, causing both snipers to sit up and get ready to take the shot – only to realize that it was a resident human and not a member of an evil organization.

Lance's foot continued tapping. He and Kinkade were on separate roofs, and comms were only to be used if absolutely necessary. The last and only thing Lance had heard on them was the driver reporting that the "packages" had been delivered and Kinkade's acknowledgement of that fact – and it had been hours since then. Now, the sun was almost on the horizon.

Lance grit his teeth as he wished for something, _anything_ to break the silence. Even the desert air was still and quiet; there was no wind to whistle across the rooftops or cool the sweat from Lance's brow.

The thought reminded him that he had to keep drinking water. He put the binoculars down and picked up his canteen; the noise of the water sloshing around within was impossibly, wonderfully loud.

He sighed as he finished his dink, knowing that it would annoy the other sniper, and smirked as he pictured look on Kinkade's face. Then, the image of a different foul-tempered boy flashed across his mind, followed by a white-haired princess, a tech gremlin, a boy with a bandana…

Lance's shoulders slumped, realizing that he should be using his time to figure out what he would say to his team when he got back. He would tell them the truth – there was no doubt about that, no matter what the garrison officials said – but he wanted to do it in a way that wouldn't send them all charging into Iverson's office like a multi-colored bull. Lance figured they would be angry no matter how nicely he spun his words, nor would he blame them for that, but he had to get them to see that involving more people was not the answer here; it would have only complicated matters. He agreed with the garrison on that, at least.

Lance sighed again, this time due to his suddenly gloomy mood. He needed something less depressing to think about. So, settling into a comfortable position on the rooftop, he started instead to ponder a way to make his mission sound exciting when he told his team about it. They'd definitely be hearing about Kinkade's personality and the awesome spy car – that stuff he didn't need to exaggerate – but the actual sniping part of it? He couldn't just say that he was stuck on a rooftop waiting for something to happen for…

Lance suddenly remembered that he didn't know for sure how long he'd be up there. Iverson had told them that their mission could take up to 24 hours, as he was unsure exactly when Nitsua and Yeliab would exit the building. Lance fought the urge to groan; this was the most boring mission he had ever been on.

Still, there wasn't much he could do about it. His options for entertainment were limited until the targets decided to show their ugly mugs. He dejectedly supposed that he should just suck it up and do his job, but due to the dullness of the task he soon caught himself zoning out. To keep himself awake and occupied, he started to imagine the look on his friends faces when he told them that he single-handedly (with a tiny bit of help from Kinkade) took down a terrorist group.

* * *

"Movement on the west side of your building, Lance."

The Red Paladin jerked his head up; he'd dozed off. It was now dark, and the full moon was rising. Lance dreaded to think how long he'd been out, though thankfully it seemed that nothing interesting had happened during that time.

"I make three entering through the side door."

Lance then began to process what Kinkade was saying. He went rigid, suddenly wide awake.

"Are they aliens?" Lance whispered. If the terrorists were coming into his building, it was likely because of him. However, it could just as well be a group of teens sneaking out or something. Lance desperately hoped that it was kids breaking curfew.

"One of them had a tail."

Well, quiznack.

Lance began to pack up his equipment.

"What are you doing?" Kinkade asked sharply, no doubt spying on him through his own binoculars.

"What am I doing?" Lance hissed. "My position has obviously been compromised. I'm getting out of here." He could now hear footsteps climbing the stairs to his roof. He began to pack faster. "I'll relocate; maybe you should too, just to be safe."

"Lance-"

The door to the roof opened just as the Red Paladin swung the duffel bag over his shoulder.

For a moment no one moved or said anything. Then, Lance began to run toward a fire escape he knew was on the east side of the building.

He hadn't even made it half-way before he heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, immediately followed by a searing pain in his right calf.

Lance fell to the rooftop with a cry. However, he barely paused before getting up again and limping as fast he could toward his destination, breathing heavily through gritted teeth.

He was reaching out for the ledge when three pairs of hands pulled him back. One of the aliens kicked his calf, causing Lance to yell out in pain and fall to his knees. Nevertheless, he continued to struggle against his attackers – until a needle was stabbed into his arm. Lance looked at it for a few seconds, frozen in shock. He felt fear crawling up his spine, fear that was only made worse when the world started to fall away.

He tried to force himself to stay awake, to stave off the encroaching black around his vision, but whatever chemical they had injected him with worked fast.

He was unconscious in seconds.

* * *

"What happened?" the driver asked through the comms. No doubt he had heard the gunshot.

Kinkade ignored him and watched through his binoculars as the terrorists dragged Lance across the roof and into the building, his heart pumping. He wasn't panicking – he had too much self-control for that nonsense – but he was struggling to come up with a solution to the problem that had just arisen, mainly because he couldn't stop wondering how the terrorists had known of Lance's presence.

He was also wondering why no one had come for him.

Kinkade had checked his roof multiple times since he had seen the terrorists go for Lance, but no one was there and it didn't seem like anyone was going to come. The thought confused him more than anything else. Perhaps the terrorists didn't know his location? But how could they know about Lance without also knowing about him?

"Kinkade, what's happened? Is Lance alright? Lance, come in." The driver's tone was urgent, but controlled.

Kinkade still ignored him. A flicker of movement from Lance's building caught his attention; the terrorists were dragging him by his arms across the street toward the double doors of their headquarters. Peering at them through his binoculars, Kinkade could see a trail of blood coming from Lance's right leg. The group came to a halt in front of the entrance. One of them knocked on the door, and then they stood still, waiting for something.

Kinkade switched from his binoculars to his rifle.

"Enemy operatives have captured Lance," he said, keeping his voice calm as he finally responded to the driver. "He's unconscious and injured. I have a clear shot; I can save-"

"Negative, do not engage."

Kinkade's finger hovered over the rifle's trigger; he had the head of the alien with the tail directly in his crosshairs. "Confirm order: do not engage?"

"Affirmative."

Kinkade's grip on the rifle tightened.

"But sir, they're taking him into their base. The odds of him surviving-"

"I said do not engage, soldier." The driver's voice was sterner now. "They haven't come for you, which means that they likely don't know you're here. At the moment, you have the advantage. You can still complete the mission."

The double doors were opening now. Kinkade's finger twitched, but he didn't fire.

"Sir, with all due respect, he is a Paladin of Voltron. If he doesn't make it back-"

"Do not engage!" the driver ordered.

Kinkade was torn. He only had a few seconds before Lance disappeared into an enemy's base, with little hope of making it out alive. And yet, he had always believed that it was the mission that mattered most. He couldn't in good conscience let Lance die, but he also couldn't compromise the one opportunity the garrison had to neutralize a powerful enemy.

His hesitation made his choice for him.

The double doors shut with a clang that seemed to reverberate through the desert town, and Kinkade did not like the way the sound made his stomach turn.

He felt like he had just sentenced Lance to his death.

"You're a good soldier, Kinkade." Meanwhile the driver spoke to him through the comms. "Just hang tight, and-"

"No," said Kinkade, surprising himself.

"…What?"

"Sorry sir, but a valuable operative just fell into enemy hands. We need to get him back." The sniper moved away from his gun and reached for his tablet.

"Kinkade, your orders-"

"Did not account for the capture of Lance," the young man said firmly, swiping at his device until he found what he was looking for. "We need to switch tactics. We have the building schematic and the element of surprise; I can go in, take out the targets, and extract Lance. The mission will be completed either way." He sent said schematics to the driver. There was a beat of silence on the comms as the driver considered Kinkade's proposal.

"If this goes south," he eventually responded, speaking slowly, "the heat is all on you. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good." Kinkade heard the man take a deep breath. "Now, how exactly are you going to rescue Lance?"

* * *

A door squeaked open, the metallic sound echoing through the room. Lance twitched, registering the noise but not comprehending it. Something was off, he knew, but even as footsteps approached him he couldn't remember what. His brain felt fuzzy, enough so that he wasn't entirely sure if he was dreaming or not.

The footsteps stopped. With an effort, Lance lifted his head and opened his eyes. He immediately groaned and shut them again; the light from the doorway was piercing. Everything also seemed to be spinning, including the person in front of him. It made him nauseous.

While he tried not to throw up, he was vaguely aware of the person moving around him. Soon Lance felt his arms relieved of tension he hadn't sensed before. It dimly dawned on him that he had been tied up, though he wasn't sure why the thought bothered him. A moment later he was yanked by the arm out of the chair he had apparently been sitting in.

"Ow, watch it," he mumbled as he involuntarily took a step forward – and immediately cried out at a sudden pain in his right leg. He would have fallen to the ground if not for the other person, who caught Lance and held him up. However, they were none too gentle about it, and Lance had to put weight on his injured limb. Eyes still squeezed shut, he couldn't help but whimper at the fire torturing his calf. Yet, with no regard to the paladin's comfort, the person forced him to limp out of the room toward… somewhere.

Slightly more awake now and feeling dread crawling up his spine, Lance tried once again to open his eyes. He had to blink quite a bit to get them adjusted, and even then he could only squint without his head hurting, but he was able to make out his surroundings. The walls and floors were a dreary grey, but the person pulling Lance through the unwelcoming corridor was an explosion of color. They had pink hair on a blue head mottled with shades of red and purple, the same as the tail that poked out of their yellow, green, and robe-like clothes.

"You're 'n alien," Lance slurred, surprised. He felt like he should have been more scared, but everything at the moment was a confusing jumble in his head. Though, as far as he knew pretty much all of the aliens he had met were good – even the Galra weren't all bad. Why, then, did he feel like a prisoner being led to his execution?

"Wha's goin' on?" he asked the alien.

Their only response was to grip his arm more tightly and force him to limp more quickly. Lance grunted in pain, but the hurt cleared away some of the fog that seemed to surround his brain. As he focused, Lance began to recall recent events.

He remembered the trip to the marketplace first, followed by the bomb and the consequent meetings with Iverson. His blood ran cold as he was then reminded of Kinkade, the mission, his capture…

His capture.

Lance looked again at the alien towing him down the hall, his breathing getting faster.

He was captured by alien terrorists.

And Kinkade… where was Kinkade? The driver? Were they also captured, or…

Lance's eyes widened, and he immediately stumbled as his dizziness returned for a moment. He was forced to keep walking regardless, putting horrendous amounts of strain on his leg, and it was then that Lance realized that even if Kinkade and the driver were still alive there was nothing he could do in his present state.

He briefly considered calling out for the Red Lion, but figured he should only do that as a last resort. His mission had been completely secret; therefore, summoning his lion would incur the wrath of the garrison – not only on him, but his team as well. Lance didn't want to deal with that, so he figured he could at least try to talk his way out of his present situation.

Although, the more he thought about it the more trouble he had thinking of ways to convince the terrorists not to kill him – especially considering they had already gone after him once before.

It took less than a minute for Lance to decide that he was not going to die in some warehouse thanks to some underhanded cowards, consequences from the garrison be damned.

He closed his eyes and began to focus on his bond with Red.

However, he had only just brushed the lion's consciousness when he was jolted out of his concentration by the alien next to him. The Red Paladin was shoved to his knees hard enough to bruise them, and before he could recover his hands were tied behind his back. His ankles were bound as well.

Lance grimaced and blinked his eyes open, hoping that Red had received some indication of his distress from their brief contact. As he looked down on himself, he noticed that his body armor had been removed leaving him in only his tight-fitting t-shirt and pants. He also felt a bandage around his leg, though he could feel it slowly getting soaked by his own blood. He was completely defenseless. The thought only unsettled him further. Lance took a deep breath through the nose and looked up, and his blood froze upon seeing the face of Nitsua, the criminal mastermind behind the terrorist group.

She stared down at him with sharp, almond-shaped eyes and crossed arms. Something about the way she carried herself made Lance feel that he wouldn't be able to outwit her; her very being exuded intelligence. He fought the instinct to shrink back.

Lance and the Olkari stared at each other for a minute, neither one saying anything. The Red Paladin breathed heavily, due to both the pain in his leg and an effort to keep his expression devoid of fear.

This was bad.

Meanwhile, Nitsua simply gazed down on him with a cold, calculating look on her face. She was flanked by two guards, both of which had blasters. Lance swallowed nervously, against his will.

What did he do?

What _could_ he do?

Licking his lips anxiously, Lance went with his instinct: try to sweet-talk the alien.

"Um… 'sup?" he began, cursing how his voice cracked. He gave Nitsua a winning smile. "So… you got me. Good job; I'm impressed! Not many people get away with that. And your hideout… wow. I gotta say, the hospitality around here is _top_ notch. Oh, and did I mention the decorations?" Lance looked around the room at the blank, cinderblock walls and cement floor. His smile faltered for a split second, but he pressed on. "Love what you've done with the place. But, uh, as nice as this is – as nice as you allare – I don't suppose that you'd consider calling it a night? Y'know, send everybody home, clean up the joint, and, uh, I'll see you next time?"

Nitsua didn't respond. There was complete, deafening silence for about a minute, during which Lance began to sweat. Then, footsteps came down the hallway. A moment later Nitsua flicked her eyes to someone behind the Red Paladin and nodded. Lance's duffel bag, which contained his rifle and other supplies, was suddenly tossed on the ground a few feet in front of him. Lance jumped, then stared at it in confusion. He looked up at Nitsua, and she gauged his expression before she began to speak.

"You are Lance, the Red Paladin of Voltron," she stated without emotion. Her voice was smooth and monotone – like an A.I. "You were sent by the Galaxy Garrison to eliminate me and my associate Yeliab, as well as others in our organization." She paused, then guaranteed him, "I would never let you out of here alive."

Lance felt a chill crawl up his spine. The threat had no malice; everything Nitsua said just had an air of cool detachment and utter certainty.

Lance couldn't help but believe her.

He felt himself go numb. At first Lance thought it was the effects of the drug they had knocked him out with, but then he realized that the sensation was not entirely unfamiliar. It took a moment to place it, but when he did his heart sank.

It was the same feeling he'd had during the Battle for Earth, when he and Veronica had been about to die. He'd known then, too, that there was nothing he could do.

Red had come for him then. He desperately wished that he would come now, but when Nitsua began putting the rifle together from the pieces in his bag he felt it difficult to maintain hope.

Nitsua turned toward him as she worked, her expression impassive. She held his gaze for a second, and Lance saw it in her large, deep brown eyes:

She intended to kill him, right then and there.

Oddly enough, Lance didn't feel panic. He just felt… sad. Resigned, perhaps. Looking back at his life, he supposed that he had had a pretty good run, but it didn't feel like he'd done enough. His thoughts went through all of his regrets, all the people he was leaving behind, and he wondered if Kinkade and the driver were already dead or at least captured. He would have thought that the terrorists would have told him, if only to further demoralize him. Lance wanted to ask about his partners, but on the off chance that the terrorists knew nothing he decided to keep his mouth shut; no sense in accidentally betraying them.

He wondered about his friends, what they would think. Would the garrison try to lie to them about his death? He hoped that Iverson or Kinkade at least would tell them the truth.

There was also Voltron to consider. Lance knew it would take the team a while to come to terms with his death, but after that he didn't think it would be too hard to find a new Red Paladin. Maybe Veronica could give it a shot.

Which then brought him to his family. He knew it would seriously suck for them to lose him when they'd just gotten him back, but at least this time they'd know what happened – he trusted his friends to see to that.

He'd had a good run. His friends and family would be fine.

Lance held Nitsua's gaze as she walked over to him, loaded rifle in hand.

He was going to die.

The thing was, though, that he didn't understand why. Sure, these people were terrorists, but they had to want him dead for a reason. And, seeing as he had nothing really left to lose, he decided to ask for an explanation.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, surprising himself with how calm his voice sounded. Nitsua paused, looking at him with curiosity.

"You should know why," she said with a peculiar tone of curiosity.

"Well, you should know that apparently I'm "the dumb one", so pretend like I don't," he responded. "We – I was told that you were a general with the rebels; you were Voltron's ally. I don't get why you're against us now."

The Olkari tilted her head and studied Lance.

"Fine," she said after a moment. "I will tell you, and then you will see that you and the rest of the paladins need to die."

"Sure, whatever. I just want an explanation before you kill me," Lance responded, trying and failing to get comfortable on his knees.

Nitsua stared at him for a few more seconds with an unreadable expression, then began to speak.

"As you said, I was a general in the rebel forces against the Galra. I'm sure you've met dozens more like me, but you make a mistake when you compare me to them."

Lance quirked an eyebrow.

"They have all given up the fight," Nitsua explained. "They believe the war is over. I do not. We have simply turned in one empire for another, and this one is no less dangerous."

"Wait, what? What empire?" interjected Lance.

"Yourempire – the Voltron Empire," Nitsua replied, still in the same monotone voice. "You call it a "coalition", but labels mean nothing; things are defined by their actions."

She said it so seriously, Lance couldn't help it. He laughed.

"Are you kidding me?" he said between chuckles. "You think Voltron is, what, a giant robot emperor?" He envisioned Voltron wearing a robe and crown, holding a scepter, and laughed again. "Seriously? How… how did you even come up with that?"

"Let me spell it out for you," said Nitsua, frowning slightly as Lance quieted. He was grinning, still, as she began again to speak.

"While I was a general, I learned the art of war. This included battle tactics, but as the war with the Galra stretched on I shifted my focus and studied how _victory_ was achieved."

"Right, sure, and?" Lance questioned, his mirth slowly fading.

"I found that there were four things needed to attain victory," Nitsua said, shifting her stance slightly. Lance thought she looked a bit like a teacher, if he ignored the gun in her hand. "First, technology. It is through the advancement of technology that weapons are created and improved."

"Okay, I get that," Lance acknowledged. He could definitely see how technology would be first on the list of an Olkari, at least.

"Second, numbers. They indicate strength and provide brute force. All things crack with enough pressure; overwhelming a city with soldiers is an effective way to create that pressure."

"Huh, I guess so…" Lance thought back to all his history and battle tactics courses in the garrison; what Nitsua said seemed to line up with what he'd been taught.

"Third, strategy. It can be the deciding factor in a battle regardless of any other influences. A good plan is worth a hundred thousand soldiers and whatever weaponry they carry, no matter how advanced. Strategy includes information as well; the more you know, the better your strategy, the more powerful and dangerous you become. "

"This sounds like a lecture. Should I be taking notes?" he asked, only half joking. Nitsua ignored him.

"Fourth, the element of surprise. Keeping your enemy on its toes leaves them panicking and vulnerable. They act rashly, without considering all the variables – and this is what allows you to attack when and where they least expect it, always catching them off guard."

"Right…" He paused, but Nitusua seemed to be done speaking. "I don't see what this has to do with Voltron," Lance admitted, frowning as he tried to find the point in Nitsua's lecture. The alien in question pursed her lips, and Lance noticed that she tightened her grip on the rifle. It was the first clear sign of emotion she'd shown, and he supposed it figured that she was annoyed with him.

"Voltron," she said slowly, "is a highly advanced weapon that, so far, nothinghas been able to beat. No one, not even your Altean Princess, truly knows its full potential. This weapon has been used to unite the free universe, and some if not most of the planets in the Voltron Coalition worship Voltron as well as its paladins, effectively creating a potential army ready at your command."

Lance narrowed his eyes, the pieces starting to fall together in his mind.

"You already have the technology and the numbers to successfully declare yourselves an empire," Nitsua stated with an air of finality, "and no one would expect it thereby giving you the element of surprise. Furthermore, I expect that you and your teammates have been perfecting a strategy for your conquest over the past two months. The pieces are all in place."

Lance's eyes widened as it clicked. Nitsua saw this and nodded.

"Now you see why Voltron, or rather its paladins, have to die. I refuse to stand by and watch as people are seduced into another reign of terror."

"But we don't _want_ to start another empire!" Lance protested in disbelief. Nitsua tilted her head at him. "To be honest, most of us just would love to sit back on Earth and chill with our families for the rest of our lives! But we can't,because Haggar's still out there! It's our job to protect the universe!"

"No one has seen or heard from Haggar in over three deca-phoebes; she's as good as dead," Nitsua declared. "All of your training is just for show – to remind the people that you are still in control of them."

"We're not in control of _anybody_!" Lance exclaimed angrily. "Come on, lady, don't you think that if we were going to declare ourselves the universe's overlords we would have done it by now?"

"As I said, you're most likely discussing strategy."

"Bullshit!" Lance spat. "We were bedridden for weeks, and when we finally got out of the hospital we got right back into training because Keith doesn't know the meaning of the word "vacation"! And when we weren't busting our asses doing that, we were hanging out with our families – which we haven't seen in _years_!" He pointed out. "And those are the _only_ reasons we haven't left military grounds! You guys literally ruined the _first_ day we've been outside the garrison for fun since we got to Earth, you know that? You didn't have to try to blow us up! We're not trying to take over the universe; we just want it to be _safe_ so we can go _home_!"

His words echoed in the room and in the hallway. Nitsua looked at him for a minute, silent. Temper still high after his tirade, Lance glared at her as he tried to catch his breath.

"I believe that you think you're doing the right thing," Nitsua said eventually, "but that doesn't change anything." Lance's jaw dropped, but the alien went on. "You won't listen to reason because you're fixed in your beliefs; the same goes for your teammates. That's why I have to kill you."

Lance spluttered, but couldn't seem to form any actual words. He wanted to reason with her, wanted to show her how wrong she was, but his tongue was frozen as Nitsua approached him.

"I did try to kill you all with the bomb," she continued as she walked, "but even if it failed – as it did – I knew it would force the garrison into action. I knew they would send someone to assassinate me and Yeliab quietly. However, you should know that I didn't think they'd risk sending you."

Directly in front of him now, Nitsua looked down at his kneeling form. Icy dread filled Lance's chest.

"My original plan was to infiltrate the garrison through whatever operative they sent," she told him. "I've had an agent preparing for the mission for weeks. However, as soon as you were spotted, the plan changed. You are not a typical garrison operative; to impersonate you would be much more difficult."

She lifted the gun, pointing it straight at Lance's head. He stared at it, and his mind went blank.

"However, we could not do nothing, and so I had you captured. I know that killing even one paladin incapacitates Voltron; I could not waste the opportunity."

Lance didn't know what to think or feel; the whole situation was just so _wrong_.

He didn't want it to end like this.

That thought spurred him into trying to find a way to free himself. He strained against his bonds, but he couldn't break them. He knew that if he tried to stand he would be shot before he could do anything, and his leg would prevent him from running even if he could get out.

 _Red_ , his mind supplied. Lance froze for a second, then squeezed his eyes shut and threw everything he had into the bond with his lion.

Nitsua seemed to assume that his eyes were closed in fear.

"Don't worry, this will be quick," she assured him without emotion, though Lance could barely hear her as he focused. "It isn't personal; I'm just doing what has to be done."

Lance finally felt Red roar in his mind, and for a second hope flared.

Then the gun went off.

* * *

 **hehe... cliffhanger. : )**

 **Fun Fact: it takes about five minutes of constant inhalation to knock someone out with a chloroform soaked rag. Applying constant pressure to the neck or injecting a small dose of ketamine is much more efficient; it takes a minute or less.**

 **The things you research while writing, amirite? (I promise I'm not a serial killer!)**

 **I will try to update next** **Wednesday; I think it'll be the last chapter? We'll see.**

 **I have sooo much fanfiction planned, btw... whether or not I get to it is another story.**

 **Please review; it keeps me motivated!**


	3. Chapter 3

Nitsua fell backwards, her cold eyes now completely devoid of life, and a thud sounded as she hit the ground. The world went still. Lance stared at her body in shock, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

He had been about to die. Why wasn't he dead?

Red's concerned and slightly confused roar in his mind jolted him back to reality. Lance mentally sent him brief assurance that he was all right (against all odds), then twisted around to identify his savior.

Lance's jaw dropped. "Kinkade?"

The sniper stood in the doorway, holding his gun at the ready. He was breathing heavily, but he didn't miss a beat between glancing at Lance and proceeding to take out the other terrorists in the room. Three shots were followed by three thuds, and only then did Kinkade lower his rifle.

"Are you injured?" he asked as he walked briskly toward his fellow sniper, slinging the gun across his back.

"What are you _doing_ here?!" Lance responded, ignoring the question as Kinkade pulled out a knife and made short work of the bonds on his hands and ankles. "I thought you were dead or captured!"

"They didn't come after me, or the driver," Kinkade replied, retrieving the paladin's rifle and duffle bag. "Are you injured?" he asked again.

"Yes I'm injured; weren't you watching when they shot me?" Lance bit back, grimacing as he tried to stand. Kinkade frowned and helped him up.

"Can you walk?" he asked, noticing how Lance put all of his weight on his uninjured leg.

"I can limp," Lance offered through gritted teeth.

Kinkade nodded. "Good enough. Let's go."

They slowly made their way out of the room and through the hall, Lance practically hopping on one foot with his hand tightly gripping Kinkade's shoulder. The corridor was eerily silent save for their footsteps.

"Where are all the guards?" Lance asked Kinkdade quietly after a minute. "Did you take them all out?"

"No." He glanced at the paladin. "I skirted them and went straight for these rooms; they looked like holding cells on the schematics."

"And they're not guarded?" Lance questioned.

"Must not have any prisoners," Kinkade observed.

"Well, at least there's that," muttered Lance. There was a moment of silence, then he continued. "So what about Yeliab?"

"What?"

"The mission," Lance repeated. "You took out Nitsua; what about Yeliab?"

"I came here for you, not him," said Kinkade. "The mission changed when you got captured."

"What?" asked Lance in surprise. "Who decided that?"

"I did."

"Aw, you do care," Lance teased with a smirk that vanished as soon as it appeared. "But seriously, that was stupid. The garrison's not gonna be happy that we let one get away."

"I think they'll appreciate that you're alive; the universe still needs Voltron," Kinkade pointed out.

Lance was silent for a minute, his lips pursed. Kinkade couldn't read his expression.

"All right, hear me out," the Red Paladin said eventually. "What if you left me in one of these rooms, took out Yeliab, then came back to get me?"

"What?" It was Kinkade's turn to be surprised. "Don't be stupid; we need to get out of here."

"But-"

"Lance, I have no idea where he is. And even if I did go for him, someone might find you before I came back. It's too risky, especially with your injury."

"Just give me my gun," Lance suggested, slightly miffed. "I can take care of myself."

Kinkade stopped walking and twisted his neck to look at Lance. The paladin was staring at him with a more serious and determined expression than Kinkade had yet seen on him.

"Why do you care?" the pilot asked, not understanding why Lance was suddenly so set on going through with the mission. "The garrison-"

"The garrison can go to hell; this isn't for them," Lance interrupted. "This is about protecting my friends – my _family_. You didn't hear Nitsua; what these people believe… They won't stop until me and the rest of my team are dead."

He said it with such certainty that Kinkade felt a chill go up his spine.

"The Garrison was right about one thing," Lance went on. "We need to take these guys out."

He paused, then sighed in frustration and looked away, running his free hand through his hair.

"It's just… Look, I wish we could sit down and try to talk some sense into them, but… _quiznack,_ it's just so _stupid.._." he trailed off.

Kinkade took a second to process Lance's words.

"Nitsua's dead. Talking won't help now," he told the Red Paladin.

"Yeah, probably not," Lance agreed. "Which is why we – you – have to complete the mission. You said it yourself; the universe needs Voltron." He fixed Kinkade with a solemn stare. "Sooner or later these guys are gonna come after the paladins – and given what they've accomplished so far, they might actually succeed in killing us."

There was silence for a long moment as Kinkade considered that. He understood the paladin's logic, but as for his plan there were too many variables for Kinkade's comfort.

And yet… the risk toward Lance, the other paladins, and all of their families if Yeliab was left to his own devices was too great to ignore.

"…Are you sure you'll be alright on your own?" He asked reluctantly.

Lance chuckled. "Dude, I once emerged from a _coma_ and shot Sendak in the back." He smirked. "I'll be fine."

Kinkade stared at him for a second, giving him any and all chances to back out or show signs of doubt. He didn't.

Kinkade sighed. "Alright, fine."

* * *

Kinkade crouched in the front corner of the room across from where he had killed Nitsua, waiting for someone to come by. He really had no clue as to where Yeliab could be; his best chance of getting to him was to find someone who did.

During the brief moment he and Lance had taken to plan their little operation, they had come to the conclusion that some guard had to come down the hall eventually either on a patrol or looking for Nitsua. That guard could lead Kinkade to Yeliab or to someone who knew the terrorist's location.

There was so much Kinkade didn't like about this plan. His current position across from Nitsua's room made him uncomfortable, for one, but he'd had little choice in the matter. If a guard were to come looking for the terrorist, it made sense that they would go to her last known location. However, being here meant that Kinkade was separated from Lance. The paladin had been strangely resistant to the idea of hiding in the same room as his fellow sniper. In the interest of time, the pilot hadn't pushed the issue, but now he felt that he should have. It was quiet, waiting alone, and it was worrying not knowing how Lance was holding up considering his injury. Kinkade wished that they could have at least used comms, but Lance had lost his earpiece at some point during his capture. Not that it mattered; for whatever reason radios didn't work inside the building anyway. Kinkade couldn't even contact the driver for help if things went south.

The pilot couldn't begin to guess what that man might be thinking; he hadn't had contact with him for quite a while now. For a brief moment, Kinkade wondered if he was even waiting for them anymore – but then dismissed the thought. There was no way the garrison would leave both him and Lance for dead.

He hoped.

Kinkade gripped his gun a little more tightly. Quiet demeanor or not, he didn't like this kind of silence.

* * *

Lance sighed as he sat in the front corner of his own room, trying to ignore the pain where his right calf met the cold, stone floor and twitching his left foot anxiously. He wasn't scared, exactly; rather nervous. Even though he had acted confident in front of Kinkade, he shared many of the other boy's misgivings about what they were doing. That was part of the reason he had insisted on being in another room; he had wanted time to think.

He truly believed that Yeliab had to be taken care of – that wasn't the issue – but even he had to admit that what they were doing was reckless. He knew the logic behind the mission: there was no telling when the garrison would have another chance to go after the terrorists, and by the time they did Lance and his friends would probably be dead by Yeliab's hand. Yet there was real risk involved in the operation; Lance was very aware of the fact that they might not make it out of the building alive.

Lance huffed and looked down at his rifle. He was getting sick of his life being in danger. How many times had he almost died now? Four, maybe five?

More like ten, and that wasn't even counting the actual battles against the Galra. Lance thought back to haunted castles, sea monsters, the void of space, electricity arcing from a damaged panel…

Lance suddenly remembered, with excruciating detail, shouting for the princess followed by unbearable agony as everything went white.

He blinked the memory away, shaking his head and taking an unsteady breath.

He still hadn't quite come to terms with that experience yet.

He continued to take deep breaths, trying to not think about the couple of minutes he'd been swimming in nothingness, unable to think or feel…

Red abruptly pushed on his consciousness – not for the first time since he'd sat down – asking if he was all right. Lance opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed. He latched on to his lion's presence and persistent concern, pulling himself out of his dark thoughts. He smiled weakly once he calmed down, not that Red could see it, then sent back a wave of reassurance as well as a promise to talk about it if – when – he got back.

Because he would make it back.

* * *

Kinkade was shaken out of his own thoughts by footsteps coming down the corridor – many footsteps, far too many for a single guard, alien or not.

Kinkade tensed; something wasn't right.

A second later a large group, maybe a dozen, of guards of varying alien species were upon him. Kinkade's eyes widened as they didn't even glance at Nitsua's room; instead, they went straight into his.

The first alien entered Kinkade's room, saw him, lifted their blaster, and fell down dead from the perfect hole in the center of their forehead. After a split second of surprised hesitation, the next couple of guards started firing through the narrow entryway at Kinkade. Streaks of light narrowly missed the sniper as he dodged, fired, and dodged again.

While he fought for his life, somewhere in the back of his mind Kinkade wondered why there were so many guards, and why they had seemed to know he was there. He and Lance had presumably remained undetected; how could they know where he was? Had they gone after Lance too?

* * *

The Red Paladin stiffened as he heard several sets of footsteps coming his way. A split second later, he heard shots going off from the direction Kinkade had gone. A pit formed in his stomach; something must have gone extremely wrong.

However, he had no time to dwell on the thought before a group of perhaps half a dozen terrorists appeared in his line of vision.

Lance felt his adrenaline spike and lifted his rifle. He was keenly aware of the fact that he could not move, could not dodge; one false move would be the end of him. Lance took a deep breath and forced his hands to remain steady.

As soon as the head of the first soldier entered the room he took the shot. An orange streak of light burned a hole in the alien's skull, and they fell to the ground with barely a sound. Lance had to practically rip his eyes away from the body; he did not have the luxury of shock at the moment.

He lined up the next shot and took it. He did the same for the next terrorist, the one after that, and so on and so forth for a total of seven aliens. Their bodies piled up at the entrance to the room, their multicolored blood starting to pool and mix on the floor.

Lance couldn't take his eyes away from the gory sight.

After a moment, the adrenaline started to wear off. Lance's hands began to shake and he dropped his rifle into his lap. His breathing got shallower and he was suddenly filled with the urge to get away from the bodies. He placed his trembling hands on the floor and scooted as fast as he could without further injuring his leg to the far back corner of the room, never taking his eyes off of the dead aliens.

In the distance, he faintly registered the sounds of the battle still happening down the hall.

* * *

Kinkade took down his sixth alien. As they fell, one of the others suddenly rushed him, firing at him from near-point-blank range with an angry shriek. Kinkade ducked under the shots and, when the alien was close enough, flipped them over his shoulder. They landed on the ground and Kinkade shot them in the chest before they could even catch their breath. He turned his attention the rest of the terrorists, who stared at him in shock for a second before opening fire on him again.

He continued to take them out one after another until there was a single soldier left. Kinkade raised his rifle… and hesitated.

He hadn't met and talked to many aliens and so had no way of knowing how they expressed emotion or aged, but that didn't keep the shaking figure before him from looking, for all the world, like a scared child.

They looked at each other for a moment, neither firing, and Kinkade knew that if he killed the alien now he would live with the guilt for a long, long time.

The blaster shook in the alien's hands as Kinkade approached them slowly. Their three, already bug-like eyes were blown wide, and the sniper thought he could see their bottom lip trembling. They offered no resistance as Kinkade carefully took the blaster from their red, six-fingered hands. He slung his rifle behind his back and, with an uncomfortable knot in his stomach, stood behind the alien and trained the blaster on their head.

"I know you're scared," he said, wanting to give some comfort to the trembling form before him despite the situation, "but I give you my word that if you take me to Yeliab I won't kill you."

"W-why sh-should I t-trust the w-word of a m-murderer?" the alien asked in a rather high-pitched voice, trying to sound brave. Kinkade pressed the blaster to the back of the alien's head, hating himself as he did so but knowing that it had to be done. "You don't have a choice," he said, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Take me to Yeliab."

The alien hesitated, then nodded slowly.

"Good," said Kinkade, his shoulder slumping slightly in relief. "Now move."

* * *

It took Lance a moment to realize that the gunfire had stopped, but when he did he was surprised by how quiet the hallway seemed. The silence was almost oppressive, but that did nothing to distract him from the pile of bodies in the doorway.

Lance closed his eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. He didn't really know why he was reacting this way; after so long fighting the Galra, shouldn't he be used to this kind of thing? Then again, almost all of the fighting out in space had been at a distance, and any close quarter combat had usually involved robotic sentries rather than flesh-and-blood soldiers. Lance suddenly realized that while he had certainly killed many a soldier before, he hadn't actually seen someone die at the other end of his rifle.

Lance took another breath. Well, now he had. Seven times over.

He felt Red brush against his mind and he gladly latched on to the Lion's consciousness, never more grateful for the mechanical beast.

* * *

Kinkade followed his young hostage through the hallway, away from Lance, and out into another corridor. The sniper had almost made them turn back to check on his partner, but he reminded himself that Lance was capable and that time was of the essence. They made a couple of turns, Kinkade making sure to keep track of them in his mind so he could find his way back, and in a few minutes they arrived at what seemed to be an office. There was a wooden door with large windows on either side, blinds drawn so that no one could see inside.

"In there?" Kinkade asked the small alien softly to confirm. They nodded, trembling.

"Okay." The sniper stepped away from the alien and they flinched, closing their eyes and seemingly bracing for something – for him to kill them, Kinkade realized. He gripped the blaster, hating that this _child_ was caught up in all this, and said, "You're free to go."

The alien blinked open his eyes and stared at Kinkade. The pilot gestured to the hall, indicating that they should leave. They hesitated, but then took off down the corridor in a sprint. Kinkade waited until they had turned the corner into the next hall before turning his attention to the wooden door.

After considering it for a moment, he pointed he blaster at the lock. He steeled himself; Yeliab was probably waiting for him. He would have to move fast.

He lined up the shot, but before he could pull the trigger he heard a muffled voice say, "It's unlocked, you know."

Kinkade froze; the voice had come from behind the door.

"Don't worry," it continued, "I'm unarmed."

Kinkade didn't believe it for a second. He blasted the lock, then kicked open the door and began firing.

All of his shots hit the back wall above a desk that faced the entrance. Kinkade ceased his attack, confused; where was the person who had spoken?

A second later a green head poked up from behind the desk. Kinkade leveled his blaster at it and it ducked back down.

" _Quiznack_ , don't shoot!" Yeliab pleaded from his hiding place. "I want to make a deal!"

Kinkade began walking slowly toward the desk, ready to fire in case Yeliab suddenly pulled out a weapon.

"You're not in a position to negotiate," he told the alien.

"I have information!" the alien said. "I know things your Galaxy Garrison would kill for."

Kinkade paused, though just for a second.

"What information?" he asked, still approaching his target cautiously.

"Information on all the organized crime in the quadrant," Yeliab declared. The surprising lack of arrogance in his tone made Kinkade halt. Yeliab peeked out again and, when Kinkade didn't react, slowly moved to sit down in his chair behind the desk. All the while, he didn't flinch; instead, he held Kinkade's gaze, pupil-less dark blue eyes staring into olive.

"You want me alive," Yeliab said as he leaned back in his seat with his hands folded in front of him, visible and unarmed.

Kinkade's finger hovered over the blaster's trigger. Information was valuable; if what Yeliab said was true, then to have him as the garrison's prisoner would be extremely advantageous. Then again, he could just be trying to get inside the garrison. Prisoner or not, once there he would be able to learn more about them.

After brief internal deliberation, Kinkade decided it was too great a risk.

"I don't believe you," he said, taking aim.

"Then believe that if I die, you'll find Earth swarming with the worst scum of the galaxy," Yeliab stated firmly before Kinkade's finger could so much as twitch. The sniper hesitated again.

"I know some very important, very deadly people in the black market," the alien continued when Kinkade didn't fire, "and when they don't hear from me they'll come to Earth. They'll set up shop, and no matter what you do you won't stand a chance against them without inside information."

Kinkade narrowed his eyes, not entirely convinced. "We have Voltron," he countered. "Would these criminals really stand against it? Do you think they could?"

"These people have been dodging the Galra and individual planetary governments since they were born," Yeliab confidently argued. "They don't care who's in charge, and they know how to circumvent law enforcement. Voltron, Galra – it's all the same to them."

"Voltron is not the Galra," Kinkade said defensively. "The paladins will defeat whatever criminals cross their path – and if they don't, then the garrison will."

Yeliab chuckled, and Kinkade hardened his gaze.

"You think Voltron and the garrison are so different from the Galra, but in the end they're both the rulers of their respective empires. All your law enforcement does is force Voltron's will upon the universe – and not everyone likes or agrees with it."

Kikade blinked in surprise and confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Voltron's a tyrant. Or at least, it will be soon. I'd tell you to ask Nitsua about it, but…"

He trailed off, but Kinkade ignored him and instead stared at the green alien like he was crazy. "Voltron is the "Defender of the Universe"," the pilot said.

"That's a very catchy piece of propaganda."

"I've met them, fought with them," Kinkade continued as if the alien hadn't spoken. "They stand against what is wrong and defend what is good."

"Good and bad are relative," said Yeliab dismissively. "But we're getting off track. It doesn't matter whether or not Voltron's in charge; other criminals will come. You need me whether you like it or not. Killing me would only disadvantage you." He paused, creating a moment of silence. Kinkade studies the alien's strange, green features, searching for any indication of a trick.

"I understand if you'd like to think the matter over," Yeliab said after a minute. "Please, take all the time you need."

Time was the trigger word. "You're stalling," Kinkade realized aloud.

Yeliab smiled, the corners of his mouth rising slowly. "And you're dense." He reached down and pulled a tablet out from where it had been lying on his lap.

With a curse, the sniper strode over to the desk and snatched up the tablet, keeping his blaster trained on Yeliab.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

On the screen were camera feeds from all over the building – including the hallway where Lance was. Kinkade hadn't even thought about the cameras as he had been helping the other boy; it made sense now why so many guards had come for them.

Kinkade studied the screen, and in one feed he saw his fellow sniper sitting on the floor and tapping his foot. He let out a breath of relief but didn't dwell on the image; his attention was instead drawn to the footage of the last of the alien terrorists evacuating the building. Kinkade felt dread settle in his stomach.

"You won't find us again."

Kinkade looked over at the still smiling Yeliab, then back at the tablet, thinking. The alien was right; if the terrorists changed locations, it would take months for the garrison to track them down again. The garrison had planned, in addition to the assassination of the leaders, to take out a good chunk of the group though the destruction of their headquarters. However, now that most of them had escaped, the paladins were still in danger from the group itself and whatever plans they had already set in motion.

Kinkade saw only one option left to him. He put down the tablet and turned to Yeliab, blaster in hand.

"Get up. You're coming with me."

"No." The alien looked up at the sniper calmly. "No, I don't think so."

Kinkade gripped his weapon tighter. " _Get up_ ," he said again.

Yeliab leaned forward until his forehead touched the barrel of the blaster. "No. I won't let you use me. I'll die before I give you anything; you might as well kill me now."

Kinkade set his jaw. "I said get _up_."

He walked around the desk and grabbed Yeliab's arm, yanking him out of the chair. However, Yeliab took advantage of the close proximity and grabbed the blaster out of Kinkade's hand. The sniper jumped back, expecting the alien to shoot at him, but instead Yeliab lifted the weapon to his own head.

Kinkade's eyes widened and he took a step forward. "Wait-"

Yeliab looked Kinkade in the eye, then pulled the trigger.

* * *

Lance wasn't sure how long he'd been talking with Red, but it didn't feel like long enough when they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Lance's blood ran cold; he didn't want to kill anyone else today, or ever. Still, he didn't want to die either, so he raised his rifle with quaking arms and waited as the footsteps got closer and closer. They stopped before Lance got to see the approaching person.

"Lance?"

The Red Paladin slumped with relief at the sound of Kinkade's voice, dropping his rifle into his lap again.

"Yeah, yeah I'm here."

"Good." Kinkade appeared in the doorway, silhouetted by light. He glanced only briefly at the pile of bodies, then turned to Lance. "It's time to go."

He walked over and helped Lance stand up, the paladin noticing but not mentioning the spots of color on the other boy's clothes, and they both made their way out of the room. Lance tried not to gag as he passed the bodies close enough to smell them. Slowly but surely, the two snipers made their way through the building.

"Where are the rest of the guards?" Lance asked after several uneventful minutes.

"Gone," Kinkade said shortly. "Evacuated."

"Why?"

"Yeliab's orders. He saw us on the cameras; he must not have wanted to risk losing any more soldiers."

Lance was silent for a long moment. Then,

"Yeliab, is he…"

"Yes."

Something in Kinkade's tone must have tipped Lance off, because he looked at the black sniper with a questioning expression. The pilot sighed.

"Later. Let's get out of here first."

* * *

The metal, double doors of the building's main entrance creaked open, and the two snipers exited into the desert night's air. Kinkade's comms crackled into life as soon as they crossed the threshold.

"We're out," he informed the driver.

"Good," the man responded. "Get to the car."

Kinkade helped Lance limp all the way to their getaway vehicle, a journey that seemed much longer than it was. They both collapsed in the back seat, taking a moment to just breathe in peace. Without a word, the driver started the car and they began to make their way out of the town.

They hadn't gone far when Kinkade let out a sigh and asked for the detonator. The driver silently passed back a small, black, handheld device. Kinkade glanced at Lance and found the paladin staring at it.

"What?"

Lance blinked and looked up at the other boy. "Nothing, just…" he paused, then sighed. "Nothing. Do it."

Kinkade turned his attention back to the device. He found the trigger, and after a twitch of hesitation pressed it.

Both boys looked out the back window, expecting perhaps a plume of fire and smoke, but there was nothing – only a distant _boom_ and a cloud of dust that blocked out a few stars as the terrorists' base was destroyed.

The snipers continued to look out the back window as they left the town, buildings gradually giving way to the desert lit silver by the full moon that rode high in the clear, star-speckled sky.

After a few minutes Kinkade turned away, followed a second later by Lance.

The car was quiet save for the sound of the tires on the worn, battle-scared road. No one spoke. Kinkade and Lance either stared out the window or down at their knees, processing the events of the night as the driver transported them across the desert.

Kinkade broke the silence first.

"Are you all right?"

Lance looked at him in surprise. "I'm f –" He started, then cut himself off. He sighed. "No. You?"

"I've had better missions."

Lance scoffed. "Yeah, me too."

He paused briefly.

"…Can I ask you something?"

Kinkade lifted an eyebrow but nodded.

"You've… killed before, right?" Lance asked hesitantly.

Kinkade blinked. "Yes."

He didn't add any further details; they were both familiar with the circumstances of the Battle for Earth.

"How…how do you… rationalize it, I guess?"

Kinkade studied him for a second, then shrugged. "It was war, and my home and family were in danger. I did what I could to protect them, save them. And tonight was no different," he added, guessing Lance's thoughts.

The paladin was silent for a second, then he sighed. "I know that, but… _something_ wasn't right about this."

Kinkade shrugged. "A lot of things went wrong-"

"That's not what I meant."

The pilot sighed. "I know. But Lance, that's something you're going to have to work out for yourself. You're the only one who can decide if your morals can withstand whatever the garrison asks you to do. I've made my peace with it; now you have to find out if you can do the same."

"Right…" the paladin looked down at his hands. A moment later his head shot up as he realized something. "The garrison. We're going to have to tell them what happened."

"Yes," agreed Kinkade as Lance groaned.

"Man, that is gonna be humiliating," he said, talking more to himself than Kinkade. "Quiznack, I'm gonna have to explain why Red was acting up – oh, and the team's _never_ gonna let me hear the end of getting injured _again_."

"Wait, Red?" Kinkade interrupted. "You mean the Red Lion? What-"

"Red gets kinda jumpy when his paladins are about to die," Lance explained casually. "He's been pacing his hanger since the whole thing with Nitsua."

Kinkade made a noncommittal noise; he didn't really understand the supposed bond the paladins had with their ships, so he shifted topics. "We should go through what happened. I would like to have a timeline of events ready for our debriefing," he said.

"Sure."

They spent the next hour or two recapping the mission, and what had happened to each of them after Lance had been captured. Lance relayed Nitsua's speech, and Kinkade agreed that while her ideas did explain the terrorists' behavior they were, at heart, absolutely ridiculous. Each sniper then reported what had happened to them during the time they had been separated. Kinkade noticed the haunted look in Lance's eyes when he told him about his experience and didn't let them dwell on it. He told the paladin what had happened with Yeliab, including the fate of the rest of the terrorists, and Lance began to shake his uninjured leg.

"I don't like it," he said. "Even if Yeliab and Nitsua are gone, the threat isn't."

"But they're weakened," Kinkade pointed out. "And knowing about them make you better prepared against them."

"Maybe, but I still don't like it."

They fell silent, Lance still tapping his foot nervously.

"How's the leg?" Kinkade asked after a moment.

Lance stilled, then gingerly stretched his injured leg and grimaced. "Not great, but I've had worse."

"We'll get you to the infirmary as soon as we get back."

"Thanks."

They lapsed again into a lasting silence.

"You still want a tiebreaker of Gin Rummy?" Lance asked suddenly.

Kinkade blinked at him, shaken out of his thoughts. The events of the night had been playing on repeat though his mind. Slightly annoyed at the interruption, he opened his mouth to protest – but then thought that perhaps taking his mind off things for a while wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Lance probably had the same notion.

"Sure."

* * *

 **So... It's been a while.** ***nervously laughs***

 **Yeah, sorry about that. School hit me hard around November, then finals came around, then Christmas break got hectic what with family and friends and the abomination that was season 8, and now I'm recovering from wisdom teeth removal! It's been... fun. Real fun.**

 **(help me i'm dying)**

 **Thanks to everyone who has stuck with this fic so far!**


	4. Chapter 4

After several rounds of the card game, Kinkade ultimately won; Lance was simply too distracted. Kinkade promised him a rematch sometime in the near future, an offer the Red Paladin promised to follow up on.

The driver pulled into the garrison just as the sun was rising. He had remained silent throughout the entire car ride, save for his periodical updates on their ETA to the garrison. He had also communicated that Lance was injured, so when the car finally stopped and Kinkade helped the paladin out the backseat there was a gurney waiting for the paladin. The medics present asked the two snipers about the nature of the injury, how long Lance had had it, and what they had done about it, then wheeled him to the infirmary with Kinkade following close behind.

On the way, Iverson had joined them. Concern creased his face, but he didn't ask any questions; he just told the snipers that they would debrief later.

When they all arrived then at the medical wing of the garrison, several doctors pushed Iverson and Kinkade out of the way in order to begin examining Lance's condition. They took him to a room with a large window, much like where Shiro had gotten his new arm, and shut the door with the general and the pilot outside.

After several minutes of watching Lance and the medics talk, one of the doctors exited the room.

"He'll be fine," he told Kinkade and Iverson. "The calf is a good place to get shot, relatively speaking. He should be out of here in the next hour or two."

The two men nodded. The doctor went back inside.

Kinkade and Iverson glanced at each other, then to the window.

After a minute of silence, Kinkade asked, "Sir, I can tell you what happened-"

"Not yet," interrupted the general. "We'll wait until Lance can join us to debrief."

Kinkade nodded.

They waited in silence for the next hour, sometimes pacing or leaning against the walls of the hallway but never leaving the area. They knew that Lance wasn't in any immediate danger, but both the general and the pilot felt a sort of responsibility toward the Red Paladin regardless.

As he watched the garrison doctors treat Lance's wound, Kinkade wondered how he was going to explain the situation to Lance's team.

As if on cue, the sound of many footsteps pounded through the hall. Kinkade tensed for a second, but quickly shook it off as the paladins came into view. They were led by Keith, and Kinkade noted that Shiro and Veronica were also in the group. The latter took one look at the sight of her brother on the operating table and rounded on Iverson and Kinkade.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"His leg was shot," Kinkade told her, deciding to be candid. "He'll be out within the hour."

"So his life's not in danger?" asked Hunk. Kinkade nodded, and the bigger boy slumped in relief. "Thank God."

"Then why did the Red Lion activate in the middle of the night last night?" Keith asked tensely. "Red doesn't do that unless his paladins are in danger."

"Everything will be explained once Lance can join us," Iverson assured him.

"Keep the details to yourself if you like, but I want to know _now_ why one of my children paladins was in danger," Shiro said testily.

"We were on a mission, and the mission went south," Kinkade said. "But Iverson's right; we should wait for Lance before we debrief."

Shiro looked like he wanted to say more, but at that moment Allura sighed, drawing the attention of the group. She was looking at Lance through the window with sadness and perhaps a bit of guilt.

"This happens far too often, doesn't it?" she said softly.

Pidge sighed. "Yeah, Lance is injured the most out of any of us," she said.

"Bastard," muttered Keith without heat.

"Of course he is," said Veronica at the same time, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Even with the Galra Empire gone…" Allura continued, then trailed off. She took a deep breath, straightened, and turned to Kinkade and Iverson – looking every bit a princess even without her crown.

"We will wait here until he is healed," she stated.

Iverson nodded. "I figured as much."

* * *

Whatever science-y healing magic the garrison had used on Lance, it had not required him to be unconscious. Still, the doctors had kept him distracted by explaining what they were doing, and even though most of it had gone over his head it had kept Lance from noticing his teammates outside the room.

Climbing out of the infirmary's hospital bed, Lance gingerly tested his weight on his previously injured leg. It still hurt, but it was nothing compared to before.

"It'll take a couple weeks before you're fully recovered," one of the doctors informed him. "Don't push it; no crazy training stunts."

"Keith's not gonna be happy to hear that," Lance remarked as he took a few experimental steps. He still limped slightly, but was otherwise fine. "Thanks guys, seriously."

"No problem; anything for a Paladin of Voltron."

"Speaking of, I think you have visitors," said a different doctor. Lance looked out the operating room's window and grinned.

"Don't keep them waiting."

"Yessir," Lance said with a two-fingered salute as he made his way to the door. As soon as he opened it his friends and family enveloped him in a giant group hug, almost knocking Lance over.

They all talked over each other. Some asked what had happened, some were incredulous that he had managed to get injured _again_ , but all were relieved he was all right. Lance felt himself relaxing; it was good to be back.

"If you'll all follow me, we'll soon get started with the debriefing." Iverson's voice rose above the clamor, drawing everyone's attention. Lance's heart sank; it seemed that the day wasn't over yet. He suddenly felt extremely tired.

The general began to walk down the hallway, and everyone else followed him in a crowd with Lance at the center. As they walked, Shiro and Allura brought Lance up to speed on events at the garrison. Keith told him about the training exercises he had missed, Pidge ranted about how she was still grounded, Veronica said that she had delivered his gifts from the market to his niece and nephew, and Hunk excitedly described how he had finally mastered an alien recipe.

As they talked and laughed, Lance suddenly became acutely aware of how much he cared about team – his family, blood or otherwise. Looking at their smiles, he wanted nothing more than to protect them. How could anyone say that they were evil? His friends deserved all the happiness in the universe.

* * *

A few minutes later, the paladins, Veronica, Shiro, Kinkade, and Iverson were all situated in one of the Atlas's many meeting rooms. Iverson stood at the front, while Kinkade and Lance were seated facing each other on either side of the general. All looked to them expectantly from various places at the table.

Iverson gazed around the room with his one eye and sighed.

"I'll start this meeting off by saying that none of you are meant to be here except Kinkade and Lance. But," he said before anyone could protest, "I'd rather face the disappointment of my superiors for a few minutes than exhaust myself trying to keep you out."

Shiro smiled. "Thank you-"

"That said!" Iverson barked, not giving him the chance to finish, "What you hear in this room stays in this room. If any of this _classified information_ reaches the public, it's all of our heads." He stood tall, glaring at each person individually. "Are we clear?"

One by one, they all confirmed their understanding of the situation – some more grudgingly than others.

Satisfied, Iverson relaxed his posture somewhat. Anyone paying close attention might have noticed that he looked extremely tired in the second before he pulled out his tablet.

"Right then," he said, bringing the screen behind him to life, "let's get started."

The reaction of the paladins and Veronica to the terrorists and the garrison's secrets regarding them was about what one might expect. Keith, Allura, and Pidge were furious that the truth had been kept from everyone, while Hunk was more concerned about the people affected by the terrorist group. Shiro asked what the garrison was planning next and how they could help, and Veronica wanted to know why action hadn't been taken sooner.

"Take it up with my superiors; I'm risking a court-martial just by telling you this," was all Iverson said in answer.

Eventually they got to the topic of Lance and Kinkade's mission. Iverson explained the gist of it, including the targets and their importance, then handed the reigns over to the two snipers.

The boys looked at each other. After a second, Lance sighed and stood up.

"All right, so. After five hours of playing Gin Rummy, Kinkade and I got to the middle-of-nowhere desert town and set up shop. Kinkade went to the southern location, I went to the north, and the driver…"

"Sargent Norton," supplied Iverson.

"Is that his name? I don't think he said." Lance looked around. "Where is he anyway? Shouldn't he be here too?"

Iverson blinked. "Yes he should. I'll look into it. In the meantime, continue." He began typing something into his tablet.

Lance went on to recount the mission until he had gotten captured. Kinkade then chimed in with his side of the story, describing his plan to infiltrate the terrorists' headquarters and save Lance.

"…got inside the building, my comms died," he said. "Then-"

"Wait, what?" interjected Pidge. "What do you mean your comms "died"?"

"They did not function in the building; we had no contact with Sargent Norton while inside," answered Kinkade. "Why?"

"That's weird..." her brow furrowed as she began thinking. "That's…hm."

"What's up, Pidge?" asked Keith.

"Maybe nothing. Maybe not. Give me a minute to figure it out…" She started muttering under her breath.

For everyone else, there was a moment of awkward silence that Shiro broke by clearing his throat. "In the meantime, maybe we could get back to the debriefing…"

"Yes," said Kinkade. "Lance?"

The Red Paladin sighed; this was the part of the story he'd been dreading. "Yeah, I guess I should explain what happened before you found me." He inhaled deeply. "So when I woke up I was introduced to Nitsua and she was all like, "Ooh, I'm gonna kill you!" I was all like, "Uh, no you're not bitch," and she was all like, "Oh darn, well I guess I better tell you my evil plan then!" and then she went on this whole rant about how Voltron is evil and stuff and then I laughed in her face and then she put the gun to my head and was about to kill me and then Kinkade walked in like a frickin' Gand went all _Pow! Pow! Pow!_ and then we got out of there and-"

"Woah, wait, slow down Lance!" interrupted Keith. Everyone was staring at the Red Paladin.

"Did you just say you laughed in her face?" asked Veronica.

"She had a gun to your head?" asked Hunk.

"What was that about Voltron being evil?" asked Allura.

"Maybe go through that again, Lance," suggested Shiro. "Slower this time, please."

The Red Paladin rubbed the back of his head and grimaced. "Yeah, sure. Sorry."

He went through his near-death experience again, making sure to include Nitsua's crazy beliefs and his attempt to call Red. When he finished, the room was silent for a few moments as everyone took the information in. Then, Veronica stood up, walked over to her little brother, and hugged him.

Lance looked surprised for a second before hugging her back. After they separated, Veronica punched him in the shoulder.

"Don't do that again. If you die, I'll kill you," she said with a glare.

Lance smirked. "I'll keep that in mind. Same goes for you, you know," he added.

Veronica glared a moment longer before smirking back at him. She punched him lightly one more time, then returned to her seat.

Lance cleared his throat. "So yeah, that happened. Kinkade and I immediately got out of there, but he hadn't taken out Yeliab yet so-"

"So Lance had the idea to split up so that I could complete the mission," Kinkade broke in. "I was against it at first, but he was insistent."

"You put the mission first?" said Keith, looking at Lance in surprise and a hint of pride.

"Well… kinda," said Lance. "It was more like… after listening to Nitsua, the mission became more personal. It wasn't just what the garrison wanted; it was about protecting you guys."

"The garrison wants to protect you too," Iverson pointed out. Lance gave him a sidelong glance.

"I agreed that Yeliab posed too great a threat to you and your families," Kinkade pushed forward, "and so we came up with a plan."

He outlined said plan. Keith's first reaction was, "That's a bad plan."

"Well _sorr-ee_ we didn't have time to come up with anything better!" said Lance. He crossed his arms with a huff, then looked to the side. "But yeah, it wasn't the best."

"We neglected to take into account the cameras in the area and were swarmed with guards," said Kinkade. "About a dozen came for me, and half that went for Lance. We managed to fight them off, and I persuaded one of the aliens who attacked me to lead me to Yeliab."

"Wait, you both fought off multiple enemy combatants in an enclosed space – and didn't sustain _any_ injuries?" asked Shiro.

Lance and Kinkade glanced at each other. "Yeah…?" said the paladin.

There was a pause, then Keith rubbed his forehead. "Lance, how can you be such an idiot and yet actually competent at the same time?"

"Hi pot, I'm kettle."

"Shut up."

"Anyway," said Kinkade, "After that I confronted Yeliab." He went on to recount his exchange with the alien. Iverson was especially interested in the possibility of intergalactic criminal organizations coming to Earth, making notes and muttering about having to make calls. Allura wasn't pleased to hear about them either.

"Do they not know that Voltron will stand against them?" she asked indignantly. "How can they hope to be successful while we still protect the universe?"

Lance and Kinkade exchanged a glance, and the pilot repeated what the alien had said to him.

"But as it happened, Yeliab was stalling for time," Kinkade continued before the Altean could go off again. "I don't know how much of what he said was true. Regardless, his main purpose in telling me all this was to allow the other terrorists in the building to evacuate. He showed me the camera feeds; that was when I realized we had been monitored-"

"Did they have audio?" interrupted Pidge.

"No, I didn't hear any," said Kinkade, puzzled. "Is that important?"

"Maybe, maybe…" she went back to thinking.

Kinkade waited for a moment to see if she would continue. When she didn't, he went on to briefly describe Yeliab's end and the escape from the terrorists' headquarters.

"It might interest you to know," the pilot said, glancing at Pidge, "that my comms began working as soon as we exited the building."

The Green Paladin's head shot up. "They did? So then…" She tapped the table. "Ok, here's what I don't get." She looked up at the two snipers, glasses glinting. "My dad and I upgraded all the garrison's communication devices; they incorporate frequency-hopping to an absurd degree as well as other encryption techniques. They're also really hard to jam without taking out every other radio in the area. In other words, if your comms were down, then the terrorists' were too."

"Uh… what does that mean, exactly?" asked Lance.

"It means that someone _really_ wanted to make sure you couldn't communicate with anyone outside the building while you were in there," said Pidge. "Any guesses why?"

"Maybe they didn't want Kinkade or Sargent… uh… the driver to hear what they were telling Lance?" suggested Hunk.

"I mean, maybe, but they wouldn't have been able to anyway; I lost my communicator when I got captured," said Lance.

"Then maybe they didn't want Kinkade talking to the Sargent," Hunk said. "But, wait, no, why would that matter?"

Lance suddenly felt a nagging in his brain, like he was forgetting something.

"Nitsua was known for her cunning," said Iverson. "Perhaps this was a ploy to test the garrison's communication technology?"

At the mention of Nitsua, Lance began to recall the end of her speech to him; he felt like it was significant, though he didn't know why.

What was it she had said?

 _I knew they would send someone to assassinate me and Yeliab quietly…_

"Maybe we're looking too much into this," suggested Veronica. "Maybe the building was just a dead zone."

 _However, you should know that I didn't think they'd risk sending you…_

"Maybe," said Pidge hesitantly. "I don't know; this still doesn't feel right."

 _My original plan was to infiltrate the garrison…_

"Oh no," said Lance suddenly, his eyes blown wide.

 _I've had an agent preparing for the mission for weeks…_

"Lance? What is it?" Keith asked.

 _You are not a typical garrison operative; to impersonate you would be much more difficult…_

"General, can you find out the location of Sargent Norton?" asked Lance, panic edging his voice. Kinkade turned toward him, confusing etched upon his features.

 _However, we could not do nothing…_

"I asked him to come to the briefing room after you mentioned he was missing," said Iverson, reaching for his tablet. "Why?"

 _I could not waste the opportunity._

"I think, right now, he's an imposter."

"What?" everyone exclaimed.

"What are you talking about?" asked Keith.

"Nitsua had a plan to have one of her agents impersonate someone from the garrison," said Lance.

"And you didn't think to mention this?" asked Kinkade sharply.

"She literally had a gun to my head; I was a bit preoccupied!" Lance retorted hotly. "I forgot until just now!"

"She could have sent her spy to replace Sargent Norton while both of you were inside the building," Shiro said, putting the pieces together.

"Uh, General Iverson? Didn't you say he was on his way here?" asked Hunk nervously.

"As soon as he gets here, we'll corner him," said Keith, standing and using his Leader Voice™. "Let him come in and sit down at the table. Then, Pidge, you use your bayard-"

"Hold on," interrupted Iverson. "We have no evidence that he's a spy. You can't attack him."

Everyone stared at the general.

"Sir, with all due respect, if there is any chance that he _is_ a spy, we need to take action," Veronica pointed out.

"Agreed, but a brute-force strategy is not our best bet," Iverson replied testily. "Chance are he'll deny anything we accuse him of, and if we interrogate or even torture him it's unlikely that he'll admit to anything. If we can't _prove_ his true allegiance through some other means, any action against him will seem unwarranted."

"And seemingly attacking someone without cause would deal a heavy blow to Voltron's reputation, both within the garrison and without," Allura said, understanding dawning on her face. Keith groaned in frustration and sat back down.

"Correct," said Iverson.

"So what are you suggesting we do, General?" asked Shiro.

"What we need is time," he said. "We get it by letting this spy believe he has remained undetected; we don't force him into action. I will explain the situation to my superiors. Even if they don't believe me at my word, protocol demands that any potential threat be investigated. They'll likely assign a few agents to keep tabs on him, see if anything's amiss in his behavior."

"I'll have the garrison's cameras keep an eye on him too," Pidge said. "I can also tap into any transmissions he sends out or receives."

"Good," said Iverson.

"And what about the rest of us?" asked Lance.

"You all should go on with your daily lives, as if nothing is wrong," the general replied firmly.

"So, what, we sit around like everything's normal and secretly hope this guy doesn't kill us in our sleep?"

"Uh, I'm with Lance on this," Hunk piped up. "I do not like the idea of being in the same place as someone who is trying to kill me and doing nothing about it."

"I'll see what I can do about extra security," Iverson promised, "but it's unlikely he'll make an attempt on your lives this soon. He'll want to gather information for his colleagues first, I suspect."

"You "suspect"?"

"It makes sense, Hunk," Keith said. "If you've infiltrated the enemy base, you might as well gather intel. It makes the risk of getting caught all the more worth it." He sighed. "Quiznack, I sound like Kolivan. This is just like the Blades all over again."

"They were skilled in espionage from what I hear," said Veronica. "Do you think Krolia would-"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door. Everyone looked toward it.

"Now who could that be?" Allura mused.

"General," said Kinkade slowly, "didn't you say you called Sargent Norton here?"

There was a pregnant pause. Iverson glanced down at his tablet.

"It's him."

The tension in the room skyrocketed.

" _Quiznack_ ," breathed Lance.

"Everyone needs to remain calm," Iverson said. "Act normally. Do not stare, do not be hostile. Do not speak if you do not want to draw attention to yourself. Are we clear?"

Everyone nodded and assumed their best nonchalant expressions.

The knock came again.

"I don't like this," said Hunk quietly.

"We've been through worse," Shiro said. He looked around the table. "Are we ready?"

All nodded again. Shiro turned to the general. "Let him in."

Iverson opened the door.

* * *

The terrorist agent calling himself Sargent Norton stood at the door, debating whether he should knock a third time. Perhaps he had the wrong room? No, he had already checked the message from General Iverson multiple times. Maybe those behind the door hadn't heard him knock? But he had sent the general a message alerting him of his arrival, and it was marked as read. It was possible that they weren't letting him in because they were discussing sensitive information – yet the agent was almost certain that his rank was higher than that of the Paladins. Shouldn't that mean that he was privy to the same information as them and more?

The agent, whose real name was Ardnek, shuffled a bit on his feet. He straightened his uniform and double-checked his disguise with a pocket mirror and a picture of the real Sargent Norton.

The man had a chiseled jawline, a bit of stubble, a straight nose, brown eyes, and copper hair with not a single strand out of place.

Ardnek sniffed and closed the mirror.

There was another possible reason he wasn't being let in, one that he didn't want to acknowledge. He wanted to believe that it wasn't possible; he had been so careful not to let anything slip. He had studied all of the garrison's protocols, all of their passcodes and even the slang. There was no way his cover had been blown. If it had been, wouldn't he have been arrested by now? Ambushed in the hallway, taken into a room to be interrogated and then executed? That was what he had been trained to expect, what he had been trained to deal with. He never would have expected that the garrison would let him into the same room as the Paladins if they knew who he was; it made no sense.

Unless, perhaps… the Paladins wanted to kill him in person?

He felt the sharp flame of fury ignite in his chest. He wouldn't put it above them, overconfident bastards that they were. If they did plan on attacking him, he'd be sure to take a few of them with him. It might do them good to lose for once, the arrogant, manipulative _quiznakers_ –

Arndnek closed his eyes and took a breath through the nose, calming himself. Now was not the time to lose his temper, or give in to paranoia. Patience was key. He had to wait to seize the right opportunity; Nitsua had taught him that. Ardnek's gut told him that this was not the right time to kill the Paladins, especially considering that he had no idea what was waiting for him behind the door. He would just have to wait for a better chance to kill them – he could gather Intel that way, too.

That would certainly be ideal, but as Ardnek looked at the closed door in front of him he realized that that version of events became less and less likely with each passing tick. He began to tap his foot; it seemed like he had been standing there for vargas – and the time was doing nothing to help his nerves or his suspicions.

He caught himself preparing for a fight out of instinct.

He shook himself loose; he had to stay calm, had to be ready for anythi-

The door opened suddenly with a hiss, scattering his thoughts to the wind.

Ardnek blinked in surprise, but composed himself in under a second; it seemed he was finally being granted entry. He ignored the pounding of his heart and forced himself to step into the room, expression completely neutral.

 _I am a spy_ , he told himself. _I am a spy, trained to perfection by Nitsua herself._

 _I can do this._

"Thank you for joining us, Sargent," said General Iverson. His expression was stern. Ardnek noticed nothing unexpected.

"I apologize for not coming earlier, sir. I was unaware of the time and location of the debrief," he said, the words not feeling like his own. He had to try harder.

Iverson nodded curtly. "Just see that it doesn't happen again."

"Yes, sir." Slightly better that time.

Ardnek turned to the table, his eyes sweeping over the Paladins and their companions.

He quickly tamed the angry fire that rose upon seeing their faces.

He noted that they all wore expressions as neutral as his own. A few nodded at him; he nodded back. Information that he had been forced to memorize came to his mind as he identified everyone.

Takashi Shirogane, the former leader of Voltron and current captain of the _Atlas_.

Ryan Kinkade, the black sniper from the mission and one of the four MFE pilots.

Veronica Mcclain, a pilot of the _Atlas_ and sister to Lance Mcclain.

Keith, the current Black Paladin and leader of Voltron.

Lance Mcclain, the other sniper from the mission and the Red Paladin.

Katie "Pidge" Holt, the Green Paladin and daughter of the _Atlas_ 's chief engineer Sam Holt.

Hunk Garret, the Yellow Paladin and a skilled mechanic.

Allura, the Blue Paladin and the former princess of Altea.

All were formidable on their own, but he knew that in a group they were practically unstoppable. If they had attacked him, Ardnek doubted he would have had the chance to retaliate.

He dismissed the thought and took a seat next to Veronica. She glanced at him briefly, then turned her attention to Iverson as he began to speak. Ardnek copied her movements, but he wasn't really listening to the General. Instead, he decided to study the people he had been charged to kill, trying to discern if they knew about him.

He found it difficult to read their expressions. Everyone was either focused on the General or staring off into space, apparently disinterested. A couple seemed to be a bit fidgety, especially the Yellow Paladin, but the cause of that could be boredom rather than nervousness. Several people looked at him before quickly averting their gaze again, but that could be because they weren't familiar with Sargent Norton rather than suspicion.

Eventually Iverson called on the agent to share his side of the mission. Ardnek had gone over what to say beforehand, and he delivered his lines as well as any actor. There was little if any reaction from the table, but to be fair he had come in late; details of the mission were probably old news to them by now. He sat back down.

"Thank you, Sargent," said Iverson. He opened the door to the meeting room and set down his tablet. "That concludes the debrief. You're all dismissed."

No one moved.

Ardnek tensed.

Why were they hesitating? Was it because of him? Did they know who he was after all? Were they going to arrest him? Kill him? Why had they waited until now? What were they–

"I don't know about any of you, but I'm tired," Lance broke the silence, almost causing Ardnek to jump. The Red Paladin stood and stretched. "I'm gonna hit the sack early." His stomach growled. "…Right after I find something to eat."

"A snack sounds good; I'll come with you," said Hunk quickly, rising out of his seat.

Lance smiled at him, then looked around the table. "Anyone else? How 'bout you, Sargent? You wanna come?"

Ardnek blinked and hesitated, creating a moment of awkward silence. He studied the Red Paladin briefly, trying to detect any ill intent, but found nothing. Ardnek glanced at the others. A few tried unsuccessfully to hide their surprise at Lance's offer, which wasn't entirely suspicious; the rest were just looking at the agent expectantly.

Ardnek didn't know what the real Sargent would do in this situation. However, he had a hunch that it would be unusual to just casually have a meal with the most famous people in the universe – and the last thing he wanted was to bring attention to himself.

"No, thank you," he said. "Maybe some other time."

Lance shrugged. "Suit yourself. Guys?"

Keith sighed; Ardnek wasn't sure if it was in relief or not. "Yeah, I could eat."

Hunk grinned. "All right, Voltron family meal!"

That seemed to finally break the tension in the room; one by one the others broke out in smiles and made their way out the door, Iverson included. Ardnek waited a few seconds, then headed out the door himself.

He hoped he never had to do that again. Interacting with normal garrison employees was easy enough, but he had had a hard time controlling his anger and paranoia around the paladins. If he spent more time with them, he might reveal himself prematurely – that is, if they weren't already aware of his true identity. It had been hard to tell if they were from the few minutes he'd spent in the meeting. All he had really observed from them was that they were a tight-knit group, but that was to be expected; they were going to try to take over the universe together, after all.

Ardnek scowled. He hoped his opportunity to kill the Paladins came soon; after living through the Galra occupation of his planet, the last thing he wanted was another tyrant ruling the universe. He felt honored that he had been chosen to keep that from happening, that he had been given this chance to do his part in ensuring the universe's freedom. But at the same time, he was frustrated being stuck in this charade, keeping his head down and being someone other than himself. He knew it was necessary, that he had to keep the element of surprise – and if the Paladins wereon to him, laying low might help throw them off his scent – but still.

 _Patience is key_ , he reminded himself as he walked through the long, barren corridors of the Atlas. _You'll get your chance. Patience is key_.

* * *

 ** _I KNOW PEOPLE SAY THIS ALL THE TIME BUT SERIOUSLY THIS NOTE IS IMPORTANT PLEASE READ_**

 **Right. So if you haven't noticed, my updates have been sporadic. I know this, and I hate this. I think the reason it has been so irregular is because I have somehow tricked myself into thinking that if I am going to update regularly, it should be weekly. But it is a new year and I would like to think that I am a bit wiser than I was; in other words, I now realize that it is impractical given my schedule to expect myself to update weekly. However, I still want to be considerate towards my few but loyal readers, so from this point forward I will make a serious effort to update _monthly_ \- and if that doesn't work, I'll go to every other month. So with that said, expect the next chapter to be up in mid to late February. **

**I KNOW THIS IS GETTING LONG BUT PLEASE DON'T GO YET!**

 **The other thing I need to talk about is the direction and length of this story. I know I said that this would be the last chapter and that an epilogue would follow, but after spending hours upon hours editing the same scenes over and over again I had to admit that that simply wasn't going to happen. It wasn't working. The last scene in this chapter is completely different than what it was; originally the agent didn't even have a name and was going to burst into the meeting room in a berserker rage. Keith was going to kill him by stabbing him in the back - literally. Needless to say, this didn't happen; it ended the story too quickly. So one night, after tossing and turning in bed until 2:48 am on January 12th (seriously I checked) because I was _so_ unsatisfied with my writing, I sat up, turned on the light, and began to figure out where the story would go if I were to make it longer. ****And, well, let's just say that you all should strap in because we're gonna be here for a while. I'm really excited; there's some tear-jerking awesome stuff coming.** **Shiranai Atsune, it looks like you get your wish after all. Happy New Year : )**

 **Finally, to everyone following the story, first THANK YOU and second please keep reviewing; those things make my day and keep me motivated.**

...

 **Ok now you guys can go. Love you all! 3**


	5. Chapter 5

_Lance ran through the corridors of the_ Atlas _. He wore his paladin armor; it felt familiar yet strange after months of wearing the garrison uniforms. More than anything else, though, it felt heavy, and Lance probably would have cast it aside in order to move faster hadn't known that he would need it. The weight made it hard to even lift his feet to run, but Lance powered through. He practically gasped for breath, but he couldn't stop – he_ refused _to stop. They needed him. He had to get to them._

 _He had to save them._

 _He pushed himself to go faster, the white walls of the garrison headquarters rushing past him._

"You're too late," _a voice hissed in his ear, startling him so much he almost stumbled. Lance noticed that there was a note of arrogance in the voice's tone; he got the vague impression that whoever was speaking was laughing at him, amused by his failure._

"You weren't fast enough…"

 _Lance tried to ignore the voice and kept running. He had to get there in time – he just had to. The voice was obviously lying._

"You weren't strong enough…"

 _Lance tried to tune out the voice and focus on his mission. However, with each step it became harder and harder to fight his way forward – like he was wading waist-deep through molasses._

 _Suddenly, he thought he heard something other than his tormentor and his own heavy breathing. It was muffled, like someone was shouting to him from underwater, but Lance latched onto it and launched himself in the direction it came from._

"You weren't clever enough..."

 _All of a sudden Lance found himself in front of a door. He looked for a way to open it but couldn't find anything that looked like a keypad or a doorknob. He reached for his bayard, thinking that maybe he could cut his way in, but it wasn't there. He tried to summon it, but to no avail._

"YOU weren't enough to save them!" _the voice laughed. Lance blinked, and then he was inside the room. He blinked at the scene change before examining his surroundings._

 _His jaw dropped open in abject horror at the sight of the bodies of his family and friends._

 _Everyone was there, spread out across the room: Veronica, his other siblings, his parents, his niece and nephew, childhood friends, Hunk, Keith, Pidge, Shiro, Allura, Coran – even Iverson and the MFE pilots lay with their dead eyes boring into his. Their blood was spattered on the walls and pooling on the floor, oozing still from the bullet holes in their foreheads. Lace felt like he was going to faint, throw up, or both._

 _He forced himself to tear his eyes away, and his gaze landed on Sargent Norton. He was standing in the center of the carnage, holding a gun and grinning triumphantly._

"I won", _he said._ "You killed them."

" _What?" asked Lance. His voice seemed small compared to the spy's. "I didn't –_ you _killed them! You're holding the gun!"_

"But you did nothing," _said Norton, still grinning and starting to laugh._ "You ARE nothing; you failed them! You couldn't save them! It's your fault they died! YOU KILLED THEM!"

 _Norton shouted the last statement as if it was the punch line to the funniest joke he'd ever heard. His deep-bellied laugh seemed to shake the room. Lance took a step back…_

 _And suddenly, Lance was the one laughing. He laughed so hard that his eyes watered, and his sides started to hurt. He tried to stop but couldn't. He managed to look around and found that he was standing in the place Norton had been a moment ago, holding the same gun and wearing the same bloodstained clothes._

 _Before he could process this, however, the room seemed to flicker. It then changed into a different scene – one that Lance recognized. The smooth, white walls of the_ Atlas _were replaced by the cinderblock of a warehouse. The only light came from the hall through the open doorway, and Lance could almost – but not quite – hear gunfire in the distance. The bodies around him were no longer those of his friends, but of aliens, and the multicolored blood was spreading toward his feet. He froze with horror as he realized that he was back in the terrorists' headquarters – or at least, he would have frozen if he weren't still laughing._

 _The room suddenly flickered again, and Lance found himself utterly alone in the void of space._

 _It was completely silent._

 _Lance could still feel himself laughing, but the sound of it was non-existent. The grin on his face stretched wider and wider as Lance stared into the inky blackness, searching desperately for someone,_ anyone _to help him. He tried to reach out for Red, but their connection was slippery; he couldn't tap into it._

 _Lance began to feel dizzy. He wondered if he was losing his mind. As he continued to soundlessly laugh, he ached for his family to comfort him; he prayed for his friends to save him._

"But they can't."

 _The words came from his own lips, but it was not his voice._

"I killed them."

 _It was not his voice, but Lance still felt himself say it._

"I did nothing to save them."

 _Lance reached again for Red; he was getting desperate, and the Lion seemed to like waiting until the last minute._

"I killed them."

 _This time, Lance felt the faintest thread of a connection; not missing a beat, he threw all he had into it._

"I did nothing to save them!"

 _The voice was getting louder and seemingly more desperate as Lance felt the connection with his Lion growing stronger. Red's presence began to fill his mind, and Lance felt his surroundings start to fall away. It occurred to him that he must be waking up, and comforted by this realization he began to relax into his bond with Red._

"I KILLED THEM!"

Lance jolted awake with a gasp, sitting up so quickly he almost fell out of bed. The shriek echoed in his mind, along with images of blood, dead friends, aliens, and Sargent Norton. Lance groaned, rubbed his eyes as if that could make it all go away, and fell back onto his pillow with a tired huff. Red rumbled at him through their link, and he told the Lion to stand down; it was just another nightmare.

He'd had them, not all the same but all similar in theme, almost every night since they'd discovered the spy. He'd been hoping they'd go away, but after five sleepless nights he was beginning to fear that he would have to get used to them.

It was frustrating, but it wasn't like he hadn't had consistent nightmares before. There were nights during the war with the Galra when he'd woken up screaming. He'd had dreams in which he had died horribly and had had to spend hours afterwards making _sure_ that he was still breathing. He'd even dreamt about his friends and family dying, usually by the hand of the Galra. But the threat back then had been distant; it had been a faceless robot in his sights, a random alien with purple fur, a battleship that looked cool when it exploded.

Now, the threat not only had a human face but was practically in the next room – and he was forbidden from stopping it. The inability to _do_ anything made the situation that much more terrifying.

The nightmares, stress, and fear were all starting to wear on Lance, both mentally and physically. He knew that he wasn't at his best – as the faint pinch of pain in his still recovering leg reminded him – and that knowledge set him even more on edge. But the worst thing was that he was starting to think the voice from his nightmares was right in more ways than one.

If and when the spy attacked his friends or – God forbid – his family, he feared that he would be too late, too weak to save them. He had no idea how he could protect them from a threat they couldn't see coming. He wished that he could trust Iverson and the garrison to keep them safe, but Lance couldn't shake the feeling that whatever the garrison did, it wouldn't be enough

He just wanted to _do_ something.

Lance sighed and sat up fully on the edge of his bed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep. He glanced at the clock, wondering how much time he had until training began, and saw that it was 3:02 am.

He had three hours to kill.

He groaned, but it could have been worse. Last night he'd woken up at about midnight; the loss of six hours of sleep had left him exhausted and virtually unable to fly Red. When they'd formed Voltron, he'd nearly fainted. If he had been more awake he probably would have noticed that everyone else was struggling as well, but at the time it was all he could do to focus on his own problems.

He shook his head to clear the memory and his mind; better to focus on the here and now.

As he'd done the past couple of nights after the nightmares, he got out of bed and quietly put on his paladin armor. He then snuck out into the corridor, making his way toward the Lion's hangar. Talking with Blue had helped him when he'd had nightmares in the past, and it turned out that talking with Red had more or less the same effect. The Lions were very good listeners.

As he walked through the silent, white, empty hall of the giant spaceship, Lance couldn't help but look over his shoulder every few feet. He swallowed nervously and tried not to think about the assassin that was lurking somewhere, or the memory of a haunted spaceship, or Galra cruisers with dangers waiting around every corner…

He made sure his bayard was at the ready until he stepped into the Lion's hangar with a sigh of relief.

* * *

"And three, two, one…" Lance leaned against Red's paw, counting down the seconds to 5:50 am, the time displayed on the big digital clock on the wall of the hangar. As soon as forty-nine changed to fifty, he pointed to the Lion hangar's entrance. Keith walked in as if on cue, yawing loudly.

"There he is, right on time!"

Keith paused in the doorway and blinked at Lance, no doubt surprised to see that the Red Paladin was early to training for the fifth day in a row – and in a good mood, no less. Lance grinned at him, and the Black Paladin narrowed his eyes in what Lance assumed was annoyance. He yawned again, not even greeting the Red Paladin as he walked into the hangar.

Usually Lance would have brushed off such behavior, as it was par for the course, but today something made him take pause.

Keith seemed… tired.

It wouldn't surprise him honestly, but the Black Paladin tended to hide signs of exhaustion unless it was _really_ bad. The fact that Lance was even able to pick up on it was cause for concern.

He studied his leader as he walked over. Keith was scowling, but that was nothing new. Neither was the stupid mullet matted with sweat, a result of his morning workout. The bags under his eyes, however – those were worrying. Keith didn't _get_ bags, much to Lance's chagrin, unless he'd gone days with little or no sleep…

Keith crossed his arms and stood in front of Lance. "What?"

Lance started, surprised at having been caught staring. "Nothing, just… Hey man, are you okay? Are you, uh, getting enough sleep?"

The direct approach was usually a good bet with Keith, insofar as it produced a telling reaction. And sure enough, Lance did not miss the way Keith tensed up. He was silent for a moment, mulling over his answer, but was saved from having to respond by the arrival of Allura.

"Good morning."

Lance turned to look at her so fast he almost got whiplash, momentarily forgetting about Keith. It had only been two words, but the way Allura spoke… he had only heard that specific tone of voice on days when his mom had run out of coffee after a full day of work followed by a long night shift. Memories of harsh words, flying household objects, and glares that could kill a man at close range flashed through his mind, and he instinctively leaned away from the Blue Paladin. Today was not a day to mess with Allura.

Remembering Keith, Lance looked again at his leader. Mercifully, the Black Paladin also seemed to pick up on Allura's bad mood, though he frowned at the former princess as she joined their little group.

A small awkward and tense silence followed, broken after a few moments by the arrival of Hunk.

"Hey guys," he said, exhaustion obvious in his voice. He yawned and blinked sleepily as he came over. Both Keith and Allura remained silent, grumpily staring into the distance.

"Hey buddy," Lance greeted when no one else did, hoping to diffuse some of the rising tension. "Late night last night?"

Hunk yawned again before absently answering, "Hmm… yeah… something like that."

Lance stifled a sigh; it seemed like everyone tired beyond all reason today.

"I swear to God Keith if this training goes any longer than it is supposed to I will hack your ass so hard you won't be able to send a text message without downloading a virus."

And so the trend continued.

"Training will be over when it's over, Pidge," Keith said shortly as the Green Paladin rubbed her eyes and grumbled under her breath. She had definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.

The was a moment of silence.

"Everyone get to your Lions," Keith commanded, without preamble.

The paladins blinked at the sudden order, but after a second they all dispersed.

Lance let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. As he climbed into Red's cockpit he whispered to his Lion: "I've got a bad feeling about this, bud."

He felt the ship rumble in agreement, and Lance sighed.

"Let's just get this over with."

* * *

They didn't form Voltron that day.

That in itself was bad, but the greater problem was that they had ceased to act like a team. It was like they were flying their lions for the first time: there were multiple instances where they almost blasted each other with lasers or elemental beams, the garrison itself was almost hit twice, and everyone – at least once – flew their Lion too close to the ground and almost crashed at some point.

Through it all Keith fought to keep his composure. He snapped a few times, yelling at Allura for freezing Hunk's tail and at Lance for sending a blast a bit too close to the garrison officials observing them, and everyone could hear him muttering "patience yields focus" repeatedly under his breath.

Then Pidge banged Green against a cliff.

"RUGGLE QUIZNACK SON OF A –"

Keith quickly muted her comms.

This did not help the situation. After a few seconds, Pidge launched Green at Black, headbutting the bigger Lion in the side.

Keith unmuted her comms.

"– EITH YOU BETTER PUT ME BACK ON COMMS I SWEAR TO GOD!"

"Your communication capabilities have been restored," Allura said drily. "Regrettably," she added, just loud enough for Pidge to hear her.

"DON'T YOU START WITH ME, PRINCESS!"

"What? _Me_ start something?" she said indignantly. "You're the one who almost plowed an Altean relic into the ground!"

"Guys, can we please not do this? This yelling is giving me a headache."

"Hunk, don't get involved in their hissy fit," warned Lance exasperatedly.

" _Hissy fit?_ That's rich coming from someone who complains when he's interrupted during his _two-hour_ skin routine!"

"Hey, at least I don't look like someone who replaces sunlight with the glow of a computer monitor! Even old, pasty Keith looks better than you!"

"Guys stop insulting each other! Look, someone has to be the better person –"

"Well I'm sorry we're not all as perfect as you, Hunk."

"Leave him alone, Allura!"

"Wow Lance, I didn't think you had the nerve to yell at your _crush_."

"SHUT IT, PIDGE!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Keith roared. The comms went quiet as everyone fell into an upset silence. The Black Paladin took a deep breath, then said, "I think we'd better cut training short today."

"Words I never thought I'd hear," grumbled Pidge.

" _Thank you_ ," said Hunk.

"This is pathetic," spat Allura.

"Oh sure Keith, take control of the situation _after_ it gets out of hand," Lance muttered. "What a brilliant leader. Shiro must be _so_ proud."

A second passed. Then another. The comms had become silent.

Too late, Lance realized what he had said – but rather than feeling remorse, he only became more frustrated with himself and the day he'd been having. He grit his teeth, angry energy overtaking his weariness. Why did he always have to be the screw-up?

"Get. Back. To. The hangar."

Keith spoke the words slowly, deliberately. Underlying them there was a dangerous fire; it was obvious to anyone with ears that he was about two seconds away from losing his temper.

Lance, forgetting his frustration for a moment, was taken aback; surely his jab hadn't hurt Keith's _that_ much. And besides, he didn't really mean it. He was just _tired_ ; it wasn't surprising that he and the others were frustrated at messing up left and right.

 _Stupid Keith._

Then and there, Lance decided that he didn't want to deal with the Black Paladin. Not today.

He huffed, gripped Red's controls, and shot off like a bullet to the _Atlas_ , which was parked in the garrison's hangar.

As soon as he exited his Lion, he began to pace the floor, his frustration building by the minute. He knew he didn't have a good reason to be angry, but he was anyway. His mind was just so muddled from exhaustion and frustration; he couldn't think straight. And so, out of some old instinct, he found himself blaming Keith for his current mood.

Eventually the others landed in the hangar. Hunk, Pidge, and Allura dragged their feet as they stepped out of their respective mechanical beasts, their expressions displaying varying degrees of sullenness. A moment later Black landed with a reverberating thud. Lance paused in his pacing and glared as Keith joined them on the floor of the hanger.

"All right, what the _quiznack_ is going on?" Keith asked. "We are supposed to be a team. If someone has a problem –"

"Oh, cut the schtick, would you?" said Lance. "We're all just tired, tired and cranky – probably because you make us get up at ungodly hours of the morning."

Keith clenched his fists and glared at Lance. "If I remember right, you were here before me. You have been, all this week. And I don't hear anyone else complaining about the hours."

He turned his glower on the other paladins. Hunk immediately looked at the floor. Allura simply pressed her lips into a tight, thin line. Pidge, however…

"Well, would it kill you to start training a _little_ later?"

Keith worked his jaw, then closed his eyes, breathing slowly in through the nose and out through the mouth.

"We have to stay sharp," he said slowly. "I don't have to remind you what we're up against."

"Yeah, you really don't."

Keith grit his teeth. "Lance…"

"What are we even doing here, Keith? What is the point of training to save the universe when we've got bigger problems here on Earth? We have an _assassin_ after us for quiznack's sake!"

" _Keep your voice down!_ " Keith hissed.

"Oh come on, since when do you care? You've never even liked the garrison and now you're, what, telling us to roll over and listen to them? You want us to let _them_ solve all our problems? Yeah, like _that's_ gonna happen!"

"We just need to have _patience_ –"

"Screw that! Screw your and Shiro's whole "patience yields focus" mantra-"

"Leave Shiro out of this!" Keith interrupted hotly, finally snapping and taking a step toward the Red Paladin.

"Whatever! My point is we need to _do_ something!" Lance yelled.

"And what do you suggest?!" Keith barked back. "That we stop training? That we sit around, waiting to be killed instead of making ourselves _better_ so that we might actually have a shot at protecting ourselves? Of protecting the people we care about? Or maybe you think we should go after the spy, guns blazing!"

"Well yeah, maybe we should!"

Keith's expression turned furious. " _What?_ No – Do you have any idea – We would make ourselves an enemy of the garrison! We'd be turning our backs on people who _helped_ us!"

"Yeah, for their own gain! I don't care about –"

"Yeah, you don't care!" Keith snapped. His outburst echoed through the cavernous hanger like thunder. "You don't care about training or being at your best for your team! You don't care about our safety! You don't think about consequences; sometimes I'm not sure you even think at all! You care more about yourself than anything! You don't care!"

The hanger was dead silent for a moment.

"I don't _care_?" Lance's voice was low with rage.

On the sidelines, the other paladins had until this point been watching the argument with growing concern as their two friends grew increasingly heated. Now, Pidge and Allura looked at the Red Paladin, surprised by the change in his tone. However, Hunk's eyes widened in dread as he realized exactly how pissed off his friend was.

" _I don't care?_ " Lance said again. "I care more that you will ever _quiznacking_ know! You – all of you – are my _family_! I would do _anything_ to protect you; I would quiznacking _die_ for you! I _did_!" he paused, taking a step toward Keith. "And _I don't_ _care_?"

Though he didn't back down, the anger drained from Keith's face, only to be replaced instantly with regret. "That's not what I meant," he said.

"Then what _did_ you mean, Keith?" asked Lance. "That I don't care about your stupid training? That I should try harder? What, am I offending you because I'm dead on my feet at six am every day? That I can't shoot straight when I've lost a whole night's sleep? Well sorry if my exhaustion impairs my reflexes! Sorry if my quiznacking _nightmares_ are making it hard to stay awake enough to fly my Lion!"

There was silence as the two boys stared each other down. Lance was breathing hard and his face was red; he looked like he might have been on the verge of tears. Keith, meanwhile, had his jaw set and his arms crossed. In his eyes was regret for what he'd said, but it was mixed with defiance; he didn't want to back down. Lance saw this and turned away with a scoff.

"I'm done."

"Lance-"

"Nope, I'm done. I'm going to take a nap. God knows I need one." He began moving toward the exit. "Hope Norton doesn't kill me or anyone else in the meantime. If only someone _cared_ enough to do something about that." He waved without looking back as he walked toward the hangar door, leaving the rest of the paladins standing in front of their lions in various stages of shock and confusion.

"Well," said Hunk when the silence had stretched just a tick past awkward, "that could have gone better."

* * *

Lance tore his paladin armor off as soon as he got back to his room, breathing heavily. He practically fell onto his bed and laid on his back, pressing his hands against his eyes. He couldn't even begin to process the thoughts and emotions that were running at lightspeed through his head; all he knew was that he was _angry_ and _scared_ and… and…

Quiznack, he was just so _tired_.

He took a deep breath, feeling sleep beginning to overtake him even as he did so. Not even a lingering fear of nightmares could stop him from drifting off into unconsciousness, but before he did he had one coherent thought that he remembered even when he awoke hours later:

 _This has to stop._

* * *

It was eight o'clock in the evening when Lance emerged from his room, wearing his casual clothes with his bayard tucked in the waistband of his jeans and blinking sleep out of his eyes. He yawned as he walked through the corridors of the Atlas, his feet carrying him toward the dining hall along a route he had been sure to memorize. As he walked, he kept his eyes peeled – but for once, he wasn't looking for Sargent Norton. Instead, he was watching out for his fellow paladins.

Lance still hadn't fully recovered from his emotional outburst earlier. The nap – nightmare free, thank God – had certainly helped to clear his mind, but his heart wasn't quite ready to face his teammates yet – especially Keith. He knew that they both had some apologizing to do, but… he needed some more time to cool down. Lance was hoping that some food and an evening to himself would help with that.

Some minutes later, he reached the dining hall and without incident got his…

Breakfast? Dinner?

…Brinner?

Brinner of mac n cheese, a slice of bread, and green beans. He sat down at an empty table and looked around.

At this hour, the dining hall was pretty quiet. A few people were scattered around the room, all engrossed in either their food or their communicators. The atmosphere was relaxing, the relative silence comforting.

After a minute, Lance decided that it was also a bit boring.

Taking a bite of the garrison's mac n cheese – which wasn't as good as Hunk's, just for the record – Lance pulled out his phone, intending to play one of the games he had downloaded.

And that was when he saw the text messages.

"What the quiznack," he whispered to himself as he saw three texts from Allura, seven from Keith, eleven from Hunk, and _twenty-one_ from Pidge.

That was a lot.

If he was being honest, part of him didn't want to deal with it. After all, if it was really important, someone would have come to get him, right?

He sighed. He knew he couldn't take that risk – not with the threats they were facing.

 _So much for relaxing_ ,he thought as he opened Keith's messages.

 **Mullet:** Lance.

 **Mullet:** Lance you need to answer your phone.

 **Mullet:** Lance we need to talk.

 **Mullet:** Quiznack did you actually take a nap?

 **Mullet:** Holy quiznack you did, didn't you

 **Mullet:** Why am I even surprised

 **Mullet:** Whatever, we still need to talk. Contact me when you get this.

Lance stared at the screen. He had trouble sensing Keith's exact tone through the texts, but it definitely wasn't a happy one. It seemed that they both needed some more time to cool down.

"Ghosting it is," Lance decided quietly as he moved on to Pidge.

 **Little Einstein:** Hey lance, I know you're sleeping but we really need to talk to you

 **Little Einstein:** Quiznack, if you're sleeping it's gonna be hours before you even see this isn't it

 **Little Einstein:** What if I spam your phone?

 **Little Einstein:** I could just…

 **Little Einstein:** send

 **Little Einstein:** texts

 **Little Einstein:** until

 **Little Einstein:** your

 **Little Einstein:** text

 **Little Einstein:** tone

 **Little Einstein:** wakes

 **Little Einstein:** you

 **Little Einstein:** up

 **Little Einstein:** …is it working?

 **Little Einstein:** Ok well get ready for an airhorn blasgjoegneg

 **Little Einstein:** Hunk says no and to stop spamming you so I guess you survive

 **Little Einstein:** …for now

 **Little Einstein:** look we just want to talk so text Hunk or someone when you get this

 **Little Einstein:** maybe text Keith

 **Little Einstein:** he's looking more stressed than usual, if that's even possible

 **Little Einstein:** anyway later

 _Well, at least Pidge is in a better mood_ , Lance thought. He grinned as he pictured her with a maniacal gleam in her eye that turned to surprise and then indignance as Hunk snatched the phone out of her hands. The thought of Hunk made Lance eager to see his texts, but he decided to see what Allura had to say first.

 **Pincess:** Lance, I understand that you are upset, but we are all anxious to talk to you.

 **Pincess:** Please do not isolate yourself; it will do more harm than good.

 **Pincess:** Hunk has informed me that you are most likely sleeping. I apologize, but please do let us know when you awake and ready to talk.

 _Both polite and demanding, as usual_ , thought Lance. If he read between the lines, he could sense the Altean's concern, but for some reason Allura was maintaining a carful distance. Lance sighed and quickly went on to Hunk.

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** Hey buddy

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** I just wanted to let you know that no matter what the others say, you don't have to talk until you're ready

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** I told them that you were sleeping btw so hopefully you don't get spammed too much

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** Sorry about Pidge

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** At least there was no air horn?

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** Anyway I'm here for you, whatever you need

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** btw I think I should tell you that Keith isn't mad at you

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** If anything he's mad at himself

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** He said he's gonna call a team meeting as soon as he hears from you, so…

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** Be prepared for that, I guess, if you decide to text him first

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** I'm here for you

Lance blinked back tears that suddenly threatened to spill from his eyes. Of course Hunk understood; he always understood.

Lance took a deep breath, steadying himself. He knew what he needed to do. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then sent a reply back to the Yellow Paladin.

 **Blue Falcon:** I'm in the dining hall

 **Blue Falcon:** the mac n cheese is just as bad as before we left, btw

He didn't have to wait long for a reply.

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** I'm on my way

 **Sunshine Incarnate:** both to talk to you and to shame the kitchen

Lance laughed.

* * *

 **OH HEY LOOK, AN UPDATE!**

 **God bless all of you who have stuck with the story for this long. I promise I'm not abandoning it; I've just been busy. Finals this year were Rough with a capital R, and now I have a summer job that basically has me working twelve hours straight. So yeah, guess my upload schedule crashed and burned before it even took off!**

 **Whoops : )**

 **So a few things about this chapter:**

 **First, I had writer's block for a lot of this and that delayed the chapter's release even further. I had writer's block because conversations that involve five different people are hard, and also I was also really eager to get to some more plot but pacing is a thing and trust me rushing things did not help anything at all.**

 **Second, I would actually really like some constructive feedback on this chapter. I'm satisfied with how it turned out, but I feel like it's different from the rest of the fic because it didn't focus as much on plot. Please give me your thoughts, provided they are appropriate and constructive.**

 **Third, I snuck in some major foreshadowing but I'm not gonna tell you what it is. *insert cackling***

 **Thanks again for reading. Have an amazing day!**

 **~Nellie**


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